Lolita
by shotofwhiskey
Summary: Kurt and Blaine are kidnapped by a madman who likes his victims to wear lacy dresses. Rather than wait to be saved, they take matters into their own hands. But it's not as easy as finding a way out, they'll have to outsmart their captor to get out alive.
1. Lolita

LOLITA

Hello. Maybe you're wondering why I'm starting another multichapter when I have 7days to finish, but I am freaking burnt out on action. I've tried for the past three days to write the next chapter and it's just not coming to me. I have been incredibly depressed lately, and have fallen into some of my old habits, and it's really not helping. I've had this plot in my head for a while, and I have decided to shift my focus on this while I'm in such a dark mindset, because it is pretty dark.

Which reminds me, here's the warnings. This is a kidnap fic, so there's that. Though there may be some sexual situations, I won't go into actual rape. This may get gory and violent.

As with all my fics this one is based around music. The fic itself, as well as this first chapter, is named after a song, Lolita by Elefant. It's rather old, it's from like 2007. I think I got it from Insound. :/

* * *

><p>Can you tell me what you're thinking?<p>

I just melt inside your eyes

Kiss me like they do in movies

Modern child of the night

* * *

><p>The North Hills mall is always overflowing with bright, youthful laughter on Friday afternoons. Usually around four pm. He usually rolls into the parking lot every other Friday at three, always in one of his three vehicles, each picked because it can blend in easily. A dark gray Ford Taurus, a blue Chevy truck, and a dark green Oldsmobile with tinted windows.<p>

Today he opted for the Oldsmobile, because he has found his mark. His marks, actually. This hobby of his is getting old, really. Kind of boring. He needs a challenge, like a double. A twofer. He hasn't quite figured out what he's going to call this yet.

He's spent weeks doing research and taking notes of their habits and things he's overheard them talking about. He's gone through seven boxes of hair dye and bought three different kinds of reading glasses. He's been an old man, a hipster, a Hot Topic goth, a redneck complete with a neckbeard and beer gut. The redneck and old man disguises were especially challenging to put together, but that's why he took those classes on costume and make-up for theatre at the learning center. He has no interest whatsoever in theatre, but he can't afford to let his mark notice him. Or the authorities.

He usually skips around, going to different malls all across the state. He's even gone to a few in Indiana, where he found his last doll. A pretty little Asian girl in Muncie who was sitting in Barnes and Noble reading a book about palm reading.

Not this time, though. He had gone after the girl in a desperate attempt to liven up his hobby but it hadn't worked. As far as he knows her family assumes her dead, which is how it usually plays out. Once the local news from that area stopped reporting about her, once the community stopped doing candlelight vigils, once her name had slipped from nearly everyone's mind, he started again, here in Westerville, Ohio.

Today he is playing the part of a college guy, only not the frat boy. He did the frat boy in this mall last month and it drew too much attention to him; female sales clerks kept staring and smiling at him. No, he has opted for the preppy Yale look, like he's just stumbled into the mall because his beloved Apple store is closed for refurbishment and he needs his tech fix.

The first half of his potential conquest is sitting on a bench outside of a shoe store, checking his phone every few seconds. He is waiting for someone, looking mildly annoyed. He's such a breathtaking young man; tall, but not too tall, lithe, with chestnut brown hair and impeccable fashion sense.

He can't wait to get him home and dress him up like the little doll he is.

* * *

><p>I was watching you for hours<p>

Standing there beside the pool

When you wear those pretty dresses

I forget the girl in you

* * *

><p>"Sorry I'm late! Traffic is crazy today. There was a pretty nasty wreck on the highway so I took the back roads."<p>

Kurt looks up from his phone to find Blaine smiling at him. "About time, I thought someone had snatched you up," he says with a little smile. He then pats the space on the metal bench next to him and Blaine sits. "I've already been in Old Navy. I got some new jeans!" He says this with excitement, bouncing in his seat a little.

"Oh, really?" Blaine says, and he picks up the Old Navy bag next to Kurt's feet and looks inside. "They wouldn't be the super-tight ones that I love so much, would they?"

"No, of course not," Kurt says. "I decided to try something different and bought some mom jeans. They even have the elastic waistband."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Nice try, honey. Old Navy doesn't sell mom jeans. If you had a Wal-Mart bag I might believe you."

Kurt pulls a face, looking highly offended. He puts a hand on his chest and leans away from Blaine. "I wouldn't be caught dead carrying a Wal-Mart bag and you know it! Not even to clean out the litter box. Not only is Wal-Mart consistently behind on fashion trends but the white-trash-to-normal-people ratio is always _at least_ eighty-twenty. Last time I went in there was to get poor Finn some Nyquil for when he had that awful cold, and I saw a woman wearing purple sweatpants and a sports bra and _that's it._ I'll never go in there again."

Blaine is trying to conceal his laughter at Kurt's distaste of Wal-Mart. "Yes, you told me about that. I remember because you ranted about it for like an hour on the phone."

"That place is evil. Pure evil." Kurt shakes his head sadly.

"Yeah, I read an article online about how Wal-Mart employees get paid like forty percent less than employees at competing stores. And Wal-Mart is such a huge company, I don't get why they do that. Every time I've been in a Wal-Mart the cashier always looks miserable."

Kurt sighs and stands up. "Okay. This conversation just got depressing. Let's go see if we can find you something nice. Then we can go home and play dress-up." He starts walking, throwing a seductive look at Blaine as he goes.

"Oh man I love playing dress-up," Blaine says to himself, his voice low, then hops up to follow Kurt.

* * *

><p>Run away, run away<p>

* * *

><p>They're on the move, walking side by side, their hands brushing seemingly on accident.<p>

He moans with longing. The first boy, Kurt, he's lovely. His skin is pale and looks so soft; he walks with his head up high. He thinks it would be his crowning achievement to break him.

The other boy, Kurt's boyfriend, is Blaine. And this is what he's looking forward to the most. Kurt will be fun for awhile but he knows that Blaine is a keeper. That hair, those eyes, the toned body, and the happiness that radiates off of him.

He's already picked out an outfit for Blaine. He ordered it special. Made threats and paid a lot of money to some guy in Germany. He's never been partial to the French maid look, but when he found this particular frilly thing on the Internet he knew it would look perfect on that boy. Black with white lace and a frilly choker and a lacy headband.

Normally he gets wigs for his dolls. But he doesn't want one for Blaine. He wants to let his hair loose, he wants to run his fingers through it. He can tell it's curly, and he doesn't understand why Blaine insists on gelling it to death every time he goes out. Maybe he'll let him wear the short black one, just to see how it looks.

Kurt has probably seen Blaine's hair curly. He's never been so jealous. He doesn't want that to color his opinion of one of his dolls, though. Kurt's going to be his little nurse (until his outfit comes in the mail from Japan), as his last one up and died three weeks ago. Choked himself with his own chains. How sad. At least he didn't slash his wrists like the last one, though, because now he won't have to replace the dress and wig.

He has decided to make Kurt a blonde. Long and full of body. Like Alice in Wonderland.

The boys walk into a clothing store, all excited and happy. He's excited too. He's finally setting things in motion, and by tonight he'll have two brand new playthings.

* * *

><p>Lola is on the floor<p>

She's wanting more, she's wanting more

Lola is on the floor

She's wanting more, she's wanting more

* * *

><p>It's nearly seven when Kurt and Blaine walk into their new favorite place to eat after a long day of mall shopping. It's a cute little diner and art gallery on the corner of the main road in downtown Westerville, and it's never very busy. Most people opt for fast food, so this place is a little less populated and a little less well-known.<p>

Blaine pulls a chair out for Kurt, then settles into his own right across from him once he's seated. "Are we getting our usual?" he asks.

"Oh, I don't know. I kind of want to try something different, you know?" Kurt lifts his menu up to frown at it, eyeing the salad selection. "I think I'm too hungry for just a salad. What're you getting?"

Blaine is also looking over his menu. "I don't know either... There's too much to choose from!"

They are saved from their conundrum by the waiter, a young man in his mid-twenties who must have only just started working there. "Hello, boys. I'm Andrew, I'll be taking care of you today... Are you ready to order yet, or do you need more time?"

The two of them look up at the waiter, who stands there in his white apron and notepad, pen poised for an order, a big smile on his face. He looks like an art school drop-out. Blaine returns the smile and says "Well, we always get the same thing... We wanna try something else, though. What d'you recommend?"

Andrew taps his pen against his chin, looking thoughtful. "Hmm... I would say 'try our soup-and-salad special' but that's only because I'm paid to."

Kurt and Blaine chuckle a little. Andrew shrugs before going on, "Well, you could try our new entree... Our chef has been experimenting." He says this with a little eye roll. "Chicken piccata with pasta and mushrooms. Served over whole-wheat pasta, has a rich lemon-caper sauce with just a touch of butter."

"Oh, that sounds so good," Kurt sighs, and he looks over at Blaine. "What d'you think, honey? Give it a shot?"

Blaine nods once. "It sounds great. We'll have that, then."

* * *

><p>Am I wrong for loving Lola?<p>

Am I wrong for what I think?

She is such a wicked child

Painted lips, dirty knees

* * *

><p>Blaine isn't sure when he fell asleep. The last thing he can recall is leaving the diner with Kurt, feeling warm and fuzzy and full after dinner. It had been delicious, and Kurt was equally happy. He had been rather cuddly, and Blaine had thought maybe they were just sleepy from the long day of shopping, followed by a good dinner. That comfortable kind of sleepiness that brings cuddles and lazy kisses...<p>

But he doesn't remember the drive home, or dropping Kurt off at his car in the mall parking lot. He doesn't know if Kurt ever made it home, because he doesn't remember answering a phone call or even a text. He doesn't remember getting into bed, he doesn't even remember changing into... whatever he's wearing right now.

His arms are up over his head, which feels like an odd position to end up in during sleep. He almost always ends up on his stomach when he sleeps, all curled up on himself. When he shares a bed with Kurt they always end up tangled in each other, but when he sleeps alone he subconsciously curls around a sleeping boy who isn't there. This position, on his back with his arms stretched out, is pretty uncomfortable and he doesn't know how in the world he ended up like this.

He feels incredibly groggy, like he's slept far too long. He sometimes sleeps in on Saturdays anyway, and once or twice has slept into the afternoon hours and gotten up with a sleep-hangover. That's what this feels like, like he's gotten plenty of sleep but could be content with just lying here for another hour, half asleep, dozing off, letting his mind wander.

With some amount of struggle he opens his eyes, but it doesn't do him much good. His room is pitch-black, which is really weird. Even in the middle of the night some light comes through under his door and from his window. He can't sleep in pitch darkness, it freaks him out. He shifts around, and that's when he realizes a few things.

First, and most distressing, is the clinking of chains coming from above him. He tugs lightly on his arms and feels a pull at his wrists. A nervous flutter erupts in his gut and he pulls again, harder, and the chains rattle and the pull hurts his wrists. He stops pulling and tries not to freak out.

Second, he is not wearing any of his own clothes. This in itself isn't immediately frightening, he's gone to bed in borrowed pajamas before. He knows these aren't his because he does not own a dress.

It's obvious he's wearing one because he feels it shift around his bare legs, which feel oddly smooth and cold. He bites his lip, his eyes wide in panic and trying to see in the darkness, and rubs one leg against the other. Now he's starting to think something has happened, because even in post-sleep-hangover he would remember having shaved his legs. He would at least remember the thought process leading up to it.

Third, this is not his bed. His bed is big and squishy and has lots of pillows and blankets, because he likes feeling cozy when he goes to bed. He likes waking up hugging one of his pillows, because in his dreams he thinks he's hugging Kurt. This bed is stiff and the springs squeak and there seems to be only a thin sheet under him, nothing over him, and one lumpy pillow under his head. His hands brush against an iron bar, which is what he must be chained to.

His breath is coming in short bursts as the fog in his mind starts to clear. He doesn't know where he is, how he got here, or what's happened to Kurt. He has no idea what's going on and he's scared shitless.

There are footsteps, muffled slightly, obviously coming from outside the room he's in. He wants to call for help but his voice is lost in his panic. And he certainly dreads being found like this; chained to a bed, wearing a dress. Instead he tries to calm down, tries to breathe regularly and make his heart stop racing.

A door opens, creaking loudly like the hinges are rusted. The sound echoes around Blaine and suddenly there is light flooding the room; he shuts his eyes with a gasp as fluorescent lights above him flicker on, temporarily blinding him.

"Oh, look who's awake!" a male voice says, the voice sounding vaguely familiar but distorted by the echoing. "Good morning, darling. You sleep like the dead, you know that?" There is a scary-sounding giggle and Blaine's skin crawls.

He opens his eyes hesitantly and finds the light slightly more bearable. There is someone looming over him, a young man. He has very little hair, having apparently shaved it all off and only has a bit of fuzz. His eyes are wide as he grins maniacally down at Blaine. "Aren't you going to say hello, darling?"

Blaine's chest is heaving as though he's just run a marathon. He can't breathe.

"For crying out loud," the man says, "don't you have any manners? If you don't behave, you're going to regret it. I don't like my dolls to misbehave."

"Dolls?" Blaine chokes out. He can barely recognize his own voice, tight with fear as it is.

"Yes, dearest. I collect dolls, and you are one of my newest additions. You make a cute maid, don't you?" He giggles wildly again.

Blaine looks down at himself, eyes going even wider as he takes in what exactly he's wearing. It's the typical French maid outfit, a black dress with a frilly white apron, white lace, and stopping about mid-thigh. He can feel something tickling his chin; more lace around his neck. He makes a choking sound and starts pulling against the chains again.

"Stop that, you little bitch!" the man shrieks. "Stop it, stop it! I went and got you this nice outfit and you're going to ruin it!" he reaches out then and grabs a fistful of Blaine's hair, forcing him to make eye contact. His captor's face is inches away from his own, his pale green eyes bugging out. "Stop, right now, or you will regret it."

Blaine stills.

He's never been so terrified in his life.

"Now then. Since you seem to be lacking in lady-like manners, we'll have to teach you how to behave. I'll go over the basic rules right now while I have your attention.

"Rule number one. You will speak only when spoken to. I understand that learning how to be a proper little doll is hard, so I'll be forgiving at first. But if I have to warn you too many times you'll get a lashing."

Blaine doesn't like the sound of this. Maybe he's just having a nightmare. Please God let this just be a nightmare.

"Rule number two. I will be giving you chores, and you must have them completed perfectly or you don't get dinner. That's how it works. Do your work and you'll be fine. Slack off and you'll go hungry."

If this is a joke he's honest-to-God going to seriously hurt someone. This isn't funny. This is terrifying.

"Rule number three. Whoever you were before I found you, he's dead and gone. The authorities found your car on the side of the road and assume you to be dead. They're looking for a body, but they assume you're dead." The man, who has been pacing and counting the rules off his fingers, stops to tug a wallet out of his pocket. Blaine's wallet. "Let's see here... Here we go." he pulls out Blaine's driver's license. "Blaine Anderson, born on June 5, 1994. So you'll be eighteen in about two months! Congrats. What else... Under eighteen until June 5, 2012, yes yes... Under twenty-one until June 5, 2015... Oh, an organ donor! How sweet of you. Address, 167 north Swope street, Westerville, Ohio. I went by your house, you should know. Very lovely place. Nice big oak tree in the back, yes? And a big Golden Retriever running around. What's your dog's name, Blaine? Sprocket?"

Blaine can't respond because he is too busy holding back tears.

"Right. Your dad was mowing the lawn when I drove by last. You look just like him. I wonder where they'll hold your funeral, Blaine? I wonder what they're going to put on your gravestone, in your obituary. Doesn't matter, though, because Blaine Anderson is dead and everyone will forget about him in a few months."

Blaine chokes out a little sob, trying not to make any noise, because he doesn't want to set this madman off again. He's over on the other side of the room now, by a simple waist-high table, where he is lighting what looks like a Bunsen burner.

"Dead and gone, that's what you are. And now you're nothing but my doll, my little maid. I've even picked out a nice new name for you! It took me a long time to pick the right one, but I think I've got it... " the Bunsen burner lights and the man holds Blaine's ID over the flame with a pair of metal tongs, letting it melt the plastic, black smoke curling off of it, warping the words and the photo.

"Delilah seems like a good name for you. A dangerous temptress in the Bible. You are lovely to look at, my dear Delilah, but that makes you dangerous. So I have to teach you how to be demure and a good little doll, so you aren't dangerous to anyone anymore."

The plastic of the ID card drips sluggishly onto the otherwise clean table, all black and charred. Blaine is shaking with silent tears, unable to comprehend this.

The man drops what little remains of Blaine's ID and opens his wallet again. He takes out his student ID and burns that, too, followed by his social security card and his debit card, and whatever cash he had left.

He turns the wallet over and gives it a shake; a few coins hit the linoleum floor and roll away. Two photos flutter slowly after them. The man bends to pick them up and Blaine finds his voice again.

"Stop it, those are mine! Let me go!" His voice is thick with tears and terror but he keeps shouting, thrashing against the chains, feeling them chaffing against his wrists. "Let me go, let me go, I won't tell anyone, just let me-"

Blaine is cut off when the man grabs him by the hair again, only jerking his head back and exposing his neck. "What is rule number one, Delilah?"

"Fuck you! Let me go!"

The man shakes his head sadly, chuckling a little. "No, I'm sorry, that is rule number seven. Rule number one is... We do not speak unless spoken to! Right. Now, I told you I'd be patient with you, as you are still learning, but little ladies do not use such language. I think such a foul mouth ought to get a little lady punished."

He lets go of Blaine and Blaine lets his head hit the pillow again. He struggles as the man reaches back to the zipper between Blaine's shoulder blades. "Oh my God, oh my God, stop stop _stop_!"

"Hush," the man says darkly, and Blaine stays quiet as the zipper goes down.

He only pulls it down to Blaine's waist, then forcefully flips him over so he's on his stomach with his arms crossed over his head. It's making the chains pull again, and he flexes his hands against the pain. He bites down on the pillow as the man walks away, stops for a moment, then walks back.

"This will teach you. I really wish I didn't have to mar your perfect skin so early, but what's done is done."

For a moment, Blaine lays there anticipating pain, hoping the dress doesn't come off any farther. It's an agonizingly long moment, hanging in silence.

Then it erupts in pain near his right shoulder blade, a sharp pain unlike anything he's ever felt before. He screams and thrashes around, not caring about the feeling of chains tearing his skin open. He only wants the new pain to stop.

It flares up a little farther down, near his spine. He cries out, long and full of agony.

"What is rule number one, Delilah?"

He can't respond, he can't play this sick game. He screams again as the pain starts again at another spot, joining the other two spots.

"What is rule number one, Delilah?"

The man sounds angry, and when Blaine doesn't respond a long stripe of burning pain goes down his back and he honestly didn't think he could scream in pain like this, or cry this hard, or be in so much pain at once.

"ANSWER ME! What is rule number one, Delilah?"

"D-d-don't s-speak... unless s-spoken to...!" Blaine cries, feeling defeated when he says it. As if he has accepted this arrangement. As if being tortured to repeat some rule means he has agreed to this.

"Good enough. That'll be it for today, then. I will be back later for your dinner and to let you up, so you can stretch a bit." He steps away, putting the metal rod he'd used to burn Blaine back on the table, then shuts off the Bunsen burner. He starts walking back over.

Blaine hides his face in the pillow and sobs.

The man pats him slowly on the back of his thigh. He caresses it, his fingers dancing over the back of Blaine's knee. "You should know... You're doing much better than the other doll I found today. He's a real piece of work. Looks a bit like this boy here."

Blaine turns his head to see the man eyeing one of the photos. One is of him and Kurt, back when they attended Dalton together. The other is a typical family portrait. The man notices him looking and smiles sadistically. "Say goodbye, Delilah, because your family will never find you."

He sticks the photo in his pocket. "This one, though..." and he shows Blaine the photo of him and Kurt, "This one you may see again. If you both behave, that is."

Blaine's heart falls and breaks.

He has Kurt, too.

* * *

><p>I hear the devil calling<p>

He's waiting for my move

I shall allow Lolita

You are my heart and soul

* * *

><p>So there's that, I guess. This idea came to me when I was uploading all my music onto my new PC and I found this song. The plot took over my head for like days.<p>

I don't know when I'll update this again. Depends on the feedback and if my depression goes away. I can tell you that if I do update, the rating may go up.

This is short because I just wanted to have something to put up after so long of not having ANYTHING to post. If you're waiting on the next chapter of 7days, I make no promises, but I am going to try and upload it sometime this week.


	2. Dart For My Sweetheart

LOLITA

*keyboard smashing goes here*

Excuse me. WHAT THE FUCK. LOOK AT ALL THOSE HITS/ALERTS. And five reviews. Holy shit. I legit yelled "SHUT THE FRONT DOOR" when I checked my stats. Like a dork, yes.

*hugs all of you*

This chapter is named after Dart for my sweetheart by Archie Bronson Outfit.

I love you people so much right now, you don't even know.

* * *

><p>One is a gun with a dart for my sweetheart<p>

Two, only you can remove such an ache, so

* * *

><p>It's sometime in the night, Kurt assumes, when the creepy guy comes back, holding a breakfast tray in his hands.<p>

He is still bound to the bed he woke up on, still wearing this hideous nurse outfit. It's a garish shade of pink and very tight. And short, very short. It looks like it came from an 'adult entertainment' store. He feels humiliated wearing this, but he doesn't have much of a choice. The synthetic fabric rubs against the various welts from a riding crop, of which Kurt had been on the receiving end when he first woke up and refused to cooperate.

"Good evening, Dinah, are you ready to behave?" the man says with a tight smile.

"My name is Kurt. Stop calling me that name."

The man shakes his head sadly. "Oh, you are so disobedient. I'm afraid you won't last long if you fight it, darling. Best to just go with it, or you'll be in a lot of pain."

"I don't care," Kurt snarls, "I'd rather be in pain than sacrifice my dignity to a pig like you."

The man shrugs lightly and sets the tray on the table on the far end of the room, then pulls a key ring full of keys out of his pocket. "If I let you go, will you promise to be nice?"

"If I promised you that I would be a liar."

"For goodness sakes, Dinah-"

"KURT! My name is Kurt, not _Dinah_!"

The man pauses and looks very upset. Kurt just continues glaring at him.

"Fine. You'll see things my way soon enough." He walks over with the tray, sits next to Kurt, and smiles sweetly, turning the keys around in his hands. "If you can be a good little girl I'll let you have dinner."

Kurt looks away. He won't give in that easy. This sadistic man can hold whatever he wants over Kurt's head but he won't give in.

"So, since you are so determined to make this hard, why don't we have a little chat? Get to know each other better?"

"I'd rather spit in your face," Kurt replies dryly, glaring at the ceiling.

"I'll start. My name is Edward, this place is my home. We're well out of the way, far away from town, and this property is huge. I inherited it, you know. And lots of money, too. I've been collecting dolls for about seven years now. My first was when I was seventeen. Can you believe that? It was such a botched attempt, too. My first, little Hannah. He tried to run away and I shot him. A real pity."

Kurt's throat goes dry. Edward picks up the glass of water from the tray and stares down into it, looking thoughtful. "Poor Hannah. He could've been happy here. All my dolls could have been happy here. I just don't understand it, Dinah. When will I find a good little girl, someone who will stay with me?"

"You won't," Kurt says hotly, spurred on by the name Dinah. "You're a sick bastard and you won't get away with this!"

Edward smiles sadly at the glass. The light strikes him as he cocks his head to the side, and Kurt feels something pulling at his memory. He recognizes this guy, he's seen him before. A long time ago. He is reminded of the mall, and Blaine, and being frustrated.

"I get away with this all the time," Edward says softly. "I bring pretty dolls home and they are assumed dead or lost and never heard from again. Do you know how many people go missing every year? Every month? Every _day_? Lots and lots. And all I'm doing is bringing pretty things like you to a better place, where you can live in perfect happiness. I'm not wrong, Dinah. I'm not sick. I'm trying to help you."

The room goes silent, and Edward takes a sip of the water. Kurt grits his teeth, wanting to shout at him, but not wanting to bring on more pain. After a few seconds of nothing, Kurt shifts slightly. Lying on his back like this is getting tiresome. "How did you get us here?"

"I drugged your chicken piccata," Edward says with a proud little smile. "Pretty ingenious, yes? I got the job at that diner after I realized you and Delilah liked going there every Friday. Just your simple tranquilizer. You both were completely buzzed before you could even drive home. I offered to give you a ride and you accepted."

Kurt can't believe it. That was him, in the diner? The waiter? He can see it now, but the waiter, Andrew, had thick-rimmed glasses and a scruffy beard, and fluffy auburn hair. Edward is clean-shaven, does not have glasses, and his hair is nearly non-existent. "...How long have you been stalking us?"

"It's not stalking!" Edward shouts, throwing the glass of water. Kurt startles a bit when it hits the floor and shatters, water splashing everywhere. "It's not! I'm trying to help you. I brought you here so you could live with me and be happy! _Why won't you be happy_?" Edward jumps to his feet and Kurt feels the soon to be familiar flutterings of fear erupt in his stomach.

"Enough talking. I'm mad at you now. You just won't listen to me... Fine, fine. Whatever. I'm going to take Delilah some dinner. He at least knows how to behave!"

Kurt is enraged by the further usage of girl's names, especially concerning Blaine. Who else could this Delilah be? He's then very shocked when Edward's eyes fill with angry tears. Edward looks down at him, his watery eyes full of rage. "I'll be back later, and I swear to God you're going to regret the way you acted tonight."

* * *

><p>Three, let me see what you got, what you're made of, what you're not<p>

Four is sore, just a ripped and bloody claw

* * *

><p>"Today, you will clean the dining room. I'm having company in a few days and I need the place to look its best. Understand?"<p>

Blaine is staring at the assortment of cleaning supplies before him, with his captor, Edward, standing behind him. He had brought Blaine down the hall to this room, chatting all the while. Even with the buzz cut Blaine feels like he knows this guy, but he can't figure out where. He looks familiar, he sounds familiar. Blaine feels like ashamed just looking at him, like he's done something to embarrass himself in front of this guy he assumes he's never met.

"What are you waiting for, Delilah? Get to work. I want the floor mopped and the windows cleaned by noon. Remember, if you don't do it just right, you'll go hungry tonight! I'll be back in an hour to see how you're doing."

The sound of his shoes echoing around the huge room makes Blaine choke up. Then the bang of hardwood doors slamming shut. He's all alone.

He waits a moment, then he shuffles his feet. Edward put a length of chain between his bare feet, so he couldn't run away without making a great deal of noise. The metal cuffs are heavy and cold against his ankles, weighted down by the chain that drags along behind him.

He looks over to the left where a window shows a rather impressive garden bathed in mid-morning sunlight. There are windows all along the room. There is a long cherry wood table in the middle of it with chairs all along the sides, but not much decoration. There are a few end tables and such with potted plants on them and a huge crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, just over the table.

At the other end of the room there is an old-fashioned full-length mirror. Blaine can see his reflection from here and his face burns with shame. The dress is tight over his chest and stomach, flaring out at the skirt. He has a stupid lacy headband in his curly hair and a lace choker around his neck. Once his hands were free he had tried to take off the headband, at least, but his captor immediately reacted with a swift backhand. His face still stings a bit.

He hopes with all his heart that Kurt is okay. He would hate to think of Kurt in a similar situation, humiliated and dehumanized for Edward's sick pleasure. And Blaine really wants to lash out, fight back, but he doesn't want to get hit again. He especially doesn't want to have to find out what that riding crop feels like, the one Edward had in his hand as they walked down the hallway to the dining room.

Blaine looks up slowly again to stare down his reflection. He squares his shoulders and frowns darkly. He doesn't care what he has to do, how he has to do it, he's going to get himself and his boyfriend out of this mess. And Edward, whoever he really is, he'll be the one regretting his behavior.

The fact remains that standing here staring at his own reflection will only get him more trouble. He doesn't want to set Edward off again. And besides, if he can stay on his good side, he can see Kurt, and they can try and figure out how to get out of this. As much as he hates playing along, he heaves a sigh and reaches for the mop, dunks it into the bucket of water, and gets to work.

* * *

><p>Five is a punching fist that's within me<p>

Six little stitches thread through my heart

* * *

><p>The room is dark again, with only a lit candle on the table for light. Kurt is on his stomach with the hideous nurse outfit completely gone, leaving him in a pair of plain white boxer briefs that make him feel sick. He doesn't own any plain white boxer briefs, especially not any that feel so cheap.<p>

"Why won't you cooperate? Dinah is a lovely name. You should be happy. You know, I could be one of those guys that kidnaps pretty young boys just to fuck them and kill them. You could leave your old life behind and live here with me. How's that sound?"

"Fuck off!"

CRACK. A cry of pain from Kurt, still chained to his bed.

"I mean, would it make you feel better if I introduced myself first? That's usually how it works. The gentleman introduces himself first and the lady gives her name with a shy smile... Yes, let's try that. Hello, pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Mister Edward." He pauses. "Now may I have your name, miss?"

"Kurt!"

CRACK. Kurt tries not to cry.

"You probably figured that Edward isn't my actual name. But I'm not stupid enough to tell you my actual name. In case you're wondering, it isn't Andrew either."

Kurt looks over at him. "I don't care," he says, his voice rough from screaming. "You can tell Andrew and Edward to go fuck themselves."

CRACK. Kurt cries out again, louder this time, the riding crop coming down hard and splitting his skin.

"I suggest you watch your mouth and do what you're told, you little slut. I don't know if you've noticed, but you. Are. Mine. I staged your death. No one suspects a damn thing. I brought you to this paradise and you repay me with such foul language and disobedience...! All I ask is that you do as I tell you. It's not hard.

"Now, I have to go check up on Delilah soon, and I'd really like to get this taken care of. I will ask you one more time. This is your last chance. I won't be so nice if you refuse to do as you're told. I've broken spitfires like you many times, so don't think your resolve is doing anything more than assuring you more unnecessary pain."

All Kurt wants is for the whip to stop cracking. To go home. To find Blaine. He knows he's here. He has to find him and get out.

"I really don't like hurting you, dearest. Honestly, you should take a page out of Delilah's book. He may still need some work but he is obedient. I told you that if you could behave I'd let you see him."

Oh, of course. If he can behave, he can see Blaine. And maybe they can figure something out.

"After all, you two were so cute in the mall every Friday afternoon. And at the diner, and at the Lima Bean. And all those other places you liked to visit. I'd like to see you together again, see how you two behave in private... yeah..."

Kurt feels like he might vomit. But this guy... Edward, fine, he sure is creepy enough to be referred to as Edward... while he's distracted by his perverted thoughts, Kurt starts forming a plan.

Edward huffs and shakes his head to clear it. "Anyway, um... Where were we?"

"You were just about to let me and my boyfriend go."

Edward laughs, far too hard. He sounds absolutely insane. "Oh, you. No, no, no. I remember now. I'm giving you one last chance, that's right. So, let's hear it. Moment of truth. I'll give you a hint, even. The answer will be... Dinah. Here's the question."

Kurt has to make a decision, right now. Keep refusing, keep fighting this, or give in for the sake of seeing Blaine again. Fight the bastard for the sake of his pride, or give up for the sake of his boyfriend. Give this slimy piece of shit what he wants, and be assured, sooner or later, that Blaine is okay, and maybe even get the chance to plot their escape. Keep fighting it and maybe never see Blaine again, but have the satisfaction that no sick son of a bitch broke him.

Edward clears his throat. "Now. My name is Mister Edward. Pleasure to meet you, miss. May I have your name?"

Now or never. Right or left. Pride or love.

"...Dinah."

* * *

><p>Seven tiny reasons tearing us apart<p>

Eight, lose your hate, it's game, come on love me, it's your fate

* * *

><p>The meaningless work is driving Blaine slightly crazy. He keeps looking up at the window while he mops, staring out at the garden. Surely this guy would not be so stupid as to leave him in a room with such an obvious escape route. Surely. Definitely.<p>

He starts making his way over to the nearest window anyway, mopping haphazardly as he goes. The bright sunlight is taunting him. He wants out. He needs to get out of here. He can't handle this.

He gets close enough to mop against the floor molding and he looks up through his eyelashes at the window. There is a latch on it, but it's inside. He can't believe it. Freedom, right there in front of him. All he has to do is reach out and push the window open and make a run for it. Sure, the chain between his ankles will hold him back some, but Edward said he'd be gone for an hour. How fast can he run in a dress and in chains? How long will it take him to find a way off the property, find out where he is? How much time has gone by since Edward left him here? Blaine figures it's been, at the most, half an hour.

He has to do this right. He can't afford to mess up and get caught halfway through his escape. And besides, he has to find Kurt first.

But maybe he could get out and get help.

Or maybe, once Edward finds him gone, he'll take his maniacal rage out on Kurt. Edward is dangerous, he's seriously messed up, and Blaine can already tell that he's capable of murder.

He can't take that chance. He can't just leave Kurt here. If he plays this right, if he stays obedient, he assumes Edward will give him more freedom. As if he could have freedom in this situation. But Blaine assumes there will be a time when Edward will want his live dolls to walk around on their own, quiet and shy, without the racket made by chains dragging on the hardwood floors.

He moves away from the window, still mopping. He keeps his head down, but keeps looking up with quick glances and keeps listening for footsteps in the hallway.

His feet are wet from mopping, and he hasn't even gotten halfway down the room yet. He has maybe half an hour left, and he still has to wash the windows. He feels weakened from all the stress and having nothing to eat on top of the work. Mopping is harder than he thought, especially when there's so much of it to do.

To stay distracted from his shaking knees and the dizziness, Blaine starts plotting. He has to prove that Edward can trust him. He has to get in his good books so that Edward will let his guard down. He'll do whatever that man wants, he'll play along. But he needs something in his corner, so to speak. What if Edward continues to refuse to allow Blaine to see Kurt? What if Edward just holds that over Blaine to keep him in line? What if it's just an empty promise?

He needs a back-up plan, in case things start getting bad. Getting worse. But he has no idea what he could do for a back-up plan. He can hope that he could overpower Edward physically, maybe a quick swing, a hard punch to the head. Maybe he could knock him out. But that's such a big risk.

Not really paying attention to what he's doing, Blaine walks right into one of the chairs, scuffing his foot against it. Something cuts his foot and he cries out, drops the mop in shock.

Blood is running sluggishly from the cut, and without thinking he pulls out the chair, sits on it, and brings his foot up on the opposite knee to look at it as best as he can. He hisses between his teeth as he looks at it, watches blood drip onto the wet floor slowly. It isn't terribly deep, but the skin on his feet is soft from walking over the wet floors for the past half hour. It stings something awful. There really isn't anything he can do about it, so he gingerly puts his foot against the floor again.

He then leans down a bit, fighting the worsening dizziness, wanting to see what cut him.

He is rather shocked at what he finds.

* * *

><p>Nine cold crimes in the night, please forgive me<p>

Ten are the tears that are frozen on your face

* * *

><p>Edward stomps down the hallway, sniffling.<p>

How could this be happening again? Why don't they get it? This place is perfect! He can give them everything they need and all they have to do is follow the rules. That's all he asks.

He stops outside of Delilah's room, leaning heavily against the wall by the door. Delilah himself should still be tidying up the dining room, and that reminds Edward that his dear friend is coming for a visit. He can barely contain himself, he's so excited. His friend has even promised to bring his own faithful pet, a young boy he's had for years. Edward had reached out to him through the Internet, begging for advice on keeping his dolls in line.

_It sounds like you have a discipline problem, Mr. Edward. I would be honored to help you with this problem. I have a great deal of experience with disobedience, and I assure you I can fix the problem._

He shivers with delight at the thought. He can't wait. But he would like to have some semblance of control of Dinah and Delilah before his friend arrives. If Dinah is screaming obscenities and Delilah is glaring daggers at the floor, slouching and muttering, it will make Edward look very bad.

He heaves a big sigh and pushes himself off the wall. He's rather early, but he'd like to check on Delilah, so he starts walking toward the dining room.

He may still be rough around the edges, but he can already tell that he was right about Delilah. He is naive and innocent and easy manipulated. He caught on when he first met him last year, purely by accident. Naturally, Delilah has no idea. Who would? Edward is borderline obsessive about his disguises and seperate identities. He's learned from his close calls, and he's been anticipating having this one boy all for himself.

Dinah may not work out. He might have to break him the hard way, and that almost always ends badly. The last doll he broke in the hard way was the Asian girl, Chiyo. After he broke her in she had a dead look in her eyes and never spoke, not at all. She didn't so much as flinch when he would experimentally caress her small breasts or lift up her skirt, just to look. And then he discovered that she was sick, that her dresses weren't fitting right anymore, and he knew what had happened. And he could not have a pregnant doll. So he disposed of her.

He sighs lightly. The rage from moments ago is gone as he walks into the dining room.

Delilah is hobbling along, hurriedly mopping the floor. He's nearly done, but Edward can see spots of blood here and there and he can see Delilah trying desperately to mop it all up.

"What have you done?" he cries, distressed. Delilah jumps, drops the mop, and looks perfectly frightened. He makes eye contact for all of two seconds before dropping it, twisting his fingers around each other, looking nervous. Edward strides over, and by the time he has reached the other end of the room, Delilah seems to be trying to shrink in on himself.

He is filled with pity for his little doll. He can see the cut on his foot. He tuts softly. "Poor thing. What've you done? You hurt yourself?"

"I'm sorry," Delilah says softly, not looking up. "I didn't mean to. Please don't be mad."

Edward blinks. And he feels something rushing up in him, a powerful heat. He can only assume that it is love. "Why would I be mad, darling?" he asks, and he reaches out to grab Delilah by the chin and lift his head up.

His hazel eyes are still bright, not dead and lifeless like the dolls Edward has broken. But he looks frightened, and ashamed. "I-I cut my foot. I got blood all over the floor. I couldn't finish cleaning. If... if you could just... please, give me a bit longer and I can finish. Please."

This has to be a dream. Edward smiles sweetly at Delilah, whose eyes fill with hope. "Oh, more poor little Delilah. I'm not cruel. The floor can wait. Come here." He reaches out and lifts Delilah into his arms, and Delilah gasps softly, shudders a bit. Edward starts walking back the way he came. "You're being so good. I'm so happy. You can finish later, you've done enough for today. We'll just take you back to your room, get you cleaned up. And we'll have dinner. How does that sound?"

Delilah is silent for a moment, but when he responds it is a thin whisper coming from Edward's shoulder. "That sounds nice."

* * *

><p>Eleven, I know I'm not your favorite man<p>

Twelve, I'll take you like only I can

* * *

><p>It's getting late and Blaine is feeling tired. He didn't know acting could take so much out of a person. Then again, it may just be the prospect that a single misstep in the act may get him a beating.<p>

Right now Edward is cooing over him, running his hands through his hair while Blaine lays in bed, unchained. His foot is wrapped in white bandages and propped up on a spare pillow. There is another thin sheet covering him. It isn't particularly warm, but he feels less on edge when he's covered up like this.

Edward strokes his cheek softly and Blaine's skin crawls. He tries to hide his distaste, tries to change a forming scowl into a shy pout. He just has to play his part, act like he's given up, and Edward is falling for it.

"Poor little lamb," Edward sighs. "You're so lovely, Delilah. So perfect. Did you get enough to eat? I can get more if you're still hungry."

"No, thank you," Blaine whispers, still not making eye contact. Hopefully it comes off as shyness, but it's really because he is so disgusted by Edward that he's afraid how he'll react if he looks in his eyes.

"All right, precious. I'm going to go now, let you get some sleep. I have to go see Dinah, too."

At this, Blaine finally looks up and they make eye contact. "Dinah...?" he asks hopefully.

"Yes. Your boyfriend, right? I promised you could see him, didn't I?"

Blaine swallows thickly. "I would like it very much if I could see him."

Edward leans back, and Blaine's heart races, thinking he has overstepped. The silence hangs over them as Edward tips the chair he's sitting in back on it's rear legs, staring at the ceiling.

"I suppose it could be arranged," Edward says after a long, agonizing silence. "If you can continue to behave, and if Dinah can learn some manners, I may let you see him. You have proven today that you can be a good girl, but Dinah is still being difficult... Oh, I just don't know about him, Delilah, he's very... Well, he's very acerbic. Maybe you will leave a good impression on him."

Edward looks down at Blaine, and Blaine does his best to look hopeful but still submissive. This has to work, it's his only option.

"I'll think about it, dearest. Right now you need your rest and I need to visit Dinah. I will tell him you miss him if you'd like."

That stabs at Blaine's heart, because he knows Edward will use Blaine's newfound obedience to try and change Kurt. And Kurt might think that Blaine has really given up. But he doesn't have any other option.

"Thank you very much," Blaine mutters, trying not to choke up. Edward takes it as emotion as the offer and smiles.

"Sweet dreams," he says as he leaves, shutting the door as he goes, plunging Blaine back into darkness.

After the footsteps have faded away, Blaine reaches down the front of the dress and takes out his reward. A knife, the kind one might cut their steak with. He has no idea how it got on the floor of the dining room, how it stayed there without anyone noticing, but he suspects that Edward doesn't go in there much. In any case, Blaine has a weapon now.

He can't see the anything in the darkness, but he manages to sit up and unwind the bandages from his foot. The cut has already clotted and dried up and will be fine by tomorrow, so he wraps the knife as best he can in the cotton bandages, then stuffs it under the mattress.

Now all he has to do is get to Kurt, and they'll figure a way out of this.

* * *

><p>Dart<p>

For

My

Sweetheart

* * *

><p>There you go, another chapter.<p>

Kurt will have a bigger role. I promise. I have this somewhat planned out, and I can tell you right now that Kurt will have his BAMF moment.

Also, any guesses as to who kidnapped the boys? It's not an OC. He's using fake names. It might not be who you're expecting. Then again, maybe it is.

Also also I have no idea if I'll be able to maintain updating every day, so don't be disappointed if I don't update tomorrow.

Thank you so much for all the alerts and favs and the HITS, my god the hits. My head is still reeling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really hope it doesn't disappoint. :x love you~


	3. Face In The Crowd

LOLITA

Wow. Really? Am I hallucinating? So far this story has 680 hits and 11 reviews and a whole slew of alerts. Holy shit. I CHOKED ON MY ENERGY DRINK I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE HAPPY

*hughughug* Thank you for reading this and reviewing and adding this to your alerts and thank you for being awesome.

The song for this chapter is Face in the Crowd by Cat's Eyes.

* * *

><p>You think that you're the only one<br>How about you take a look around  
>(take a look around)<br>I never had trouble getting girls I don't need  
>(you're just a face in the crowd)<p>

* * *

><p>It's been days since Kurt last had anything substantial to eat and it's really starting to take its toll. Right now he's in a barely-lit room, sitting on the floor in the nurse outfit. This room is different than the one he's been staying in; there's no bed, no table, no nothing. Just four walls and a door, and a few fluorescent lights overhead that are dirty and casting sickly brown light over him.<p>

He feels scared and shaky. He can remember a day when he skipped breakfast and lunch, ages ago, when he was a Cheerio and Sue insulted his hips. He had thought that feeling was bad, like he was going to pass out any second. That was nothing compared to this. He feels empty, like a single stray gust of wind would blow him away. He feels tired. His stomach hurts, but not like he's nauseous. It's like someone has stabbed him in the gut. He's never felt actual hunger pains before. He can remember people using the phrase 'hunger pains' lightly, or saying they were 'starving to death' as if it was no big deal. He'll never say such things again, he knows that. Because his stomach is knots as if it is actually digesting itself and he may very well starve to death in this godawful place.

Yesterday Edward told him that Blaine misses him, and that he's given in. It's all he's been able to think about. What did that monster do to his Blaine that would make him give up so easily? Why would Blaine just give up without even trying to find a way out? That's not like him at all. Kurt doesn't want to believe it, but his situation does nothing to brighten his mood and the news that 'Delilah' is settling in perfectly to his new role has sent Kurt spiraling into a black depression.

He looks down at himself, at what he's wearing. He'd almost rather sit here naked, but the thought of being in Edward's clutches naked makes him want to gag. He reaches out and picks up the heavy chain from between his thin ankles. It's cold and foreboding and the clinking sound echoes around him. The sound is unnerving. If he could get these off he could run fast enough to get away from Edward, he could find Blaine and get him out of here.

There is no other thought in his mind. He has to get Blaine out of here. He misses him. The only other person he's seen for the past few days is Edward, who has been going on and on about how much Blaine is 'improving'. How every day he becomes more 'perfect'. How he can even trust Blaine to go about his chores on his own now, without chains binding him, because Blaine is a good little girl.

Kurt sees red. His blood boils. Blaine may or may not have given up, but God damn it, Kurt never will. He will get them out of this. He will see the light of day again. He will end Edward, rip him to pieces. He doesn't care. No one should get away with this, and it doesn't matter what he has to do. He'll fight, cry, bleed and die for Blaine.

The door creaks open and Edward saunters in with the same tray, laden with the same food. Apple slices, a piece of whole wheat bread, and a glass of water. "Hello, Dinah. Today's the big day! Are you excited? If you pass the test, you get to stay here with me and Delilah. If you don't I'll have to get rid of you, so don't mess up!"

Kurt says nothing, only hugs his knees. Edward sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "Don't be shy, now. It's your big chance! Now, I may need to remind you how this works. So, I will say a rule, and you will repeat it back to me. Understand?"

Kurt just nods his head. He has tried for the past three or four days to keep his temper in line, because mouthing off has only gotten him whipped and half-starved. He knows if he can just play along, Edward will let him see Blaine. If they can see each other, Kurt can talk some sense into Blaine. And they can figure out what they need to do.

"Okay. Rule number one. You do not speak unless spoken to."

"I do not speak unless spoken to," Kurt replies, his voice lifeless.

Edward pauses, probably thrown off by Kurt's sudden change. "Rule number two," he says after a moment, "Behave and do your work or you will go hungry."

"Behave and do my work or I will go hungry." Just saying it is making him angry. This is insanity. He could take this bastard out right now.

"Rule number three. The old you is dead."

Kurt hesitates. He doesn't want to say it out loud. Saying it out loud makes it real. Saying it out loud, to Edward, is as cut-and-dry as signing an iron-clad contract in blood. Saying it out, to Kurt, is defeat. And Kurt has never taken defeat well.

"Dinah... Need I remind you..." and there is a click. Kurt looks up to see Edward holding a gun, pointing it right at his face.

His mind goes blank as he stares down the gun. This guy can kill him. Right now. It could happen, right here in this dingy room. No one would ever find out because Edward staged his death and Blaine may already have lost himself. He breaks out in a cold sweat and he starts shaking all over. That's a gun in his face. It has a bullet in it that could kill him. An image of his dead body on the floor with a gunshot wound in his head pops up in his mind and his eyes go impossibly wide.

Edward's finger squeezes ever so lightly on the trigger. "Dinah. What is rule number three?"

"Umm..." Kurt is not proud of how his voice shakes. He's never been so close to death. He can't even think. His mind shuts down and his mouth goes on autopilot, purely as self-preservation. "The old me... is d-dead."

The gun stays pointed at him. He can see every detail in the revolver but everything else is fuzzy, distant. The silence rings in his ears, as though he is anticipating the bang of a gunshot.

"Right," Edward says, his voice low and his smile sinister. "Moving on..." and he lowers the gun. Kurt exhales, not aware that he'd been holding his breath.

"Rule number four. You will do as I say, no matter what."

Kurt doesn't want to think about the connotations of rule number four. But the terror still has a strong grip on his mind, so he blurts out the response without stopping to think about it. "I will do as you say. No matter what."

"You're doing so well, darling! Gosh, I just can't believe it! It's like a miracle. You're getting me all excited," Edward says. He reaches over and puts his hand on Kurt's knee. The touch sends shivers down Kurt's spine and he has to fight the strong urge to knock that hand away, to back up, to do anything. "Rule number five," Edward's thumb starts moving in slow circles over Kurt's bare leg. His eyes are blown wide with lust and Kurt can tell that smile will haunt his nightmares for years. "You are my property, nothing more."

He can't fucking do this. He's a person, he's not some sick bastard's plaything! He's fought for his rights as a human being ever since he realized he was gay. He's always fought for equality, even if his method of fighting was just walking down the hallways of his school with his head held high and a condescending sneer for those who would try and bring him down. But this is so much worse, he's basically taking every part of his self and handing it over to a madman, he's signing away his rights as a human being. But he doesn't have an option. He can either agree and hope for the best, or deny Edward the pleasure and get shot in the face by a revolver at point-blank range.

He takes a deep breath. "...I am... I-I am..." He takes another. He swallows though his mouth is dry. He can't bring himself to say it. Why is this so hard? He knows he doesn't actually belong to this guy, he knows he isn't just some thing he collected. He knows he's Kurt Hummel. And he can keep knowing that after saying this one thing. "I am... Your p-property... and, um. And... N-nothing more."

There. He said it. It's done. He wants to cry so bad.

"Very good," Edward says. His hand is moving slowly up Kurt's thigh. His fingertips are less than an inch away from the hem of the dress. "Rule number six."

Kurt's eyes start welling up. He keeps his eyes on Edward's hand, the one holding the gun. How long will this go on? He doesn't even remember how many rules there are, or if Edward will make any new ones up.

"You will not try to escape."

The chain between his feet feels heavier. The metal cuffs feel tighter. The steel is burning his skin. He starts sniffling and tears start falling. "I w-will not... T-t-try to... es-escape."

Edward leans closer. His hand slips under the skirt of the dress and his hand rests on the inside of Kurt's thigh, the tips of his fingers quivering. "And finally, my favorite rule. I'm sure it will be your favorite soon enough."

Kurt gasps through his tears as Edward suddenly grabs him. "Rule number seven. If I want, you will let me fuck you."

He wants to say no. He wants to throw up. He wants to go home. He wants Blaine, he wants Blaine, _he needs Blaine right now._ "Oh my God," he chokes.

Edward's grip strengthens and Kurt cries out. "Dinah!" he barks in warning, and he lifts the gun slightly. Kurt shakes his head. "You're so close, Dinah, just one more. It's not that big of a deal," Edward says, speaking to Kurt softly as though he were trying to calm down an upset toddler. "I know you've let Delilah fuck you. Why should he get to have all the fun? I'll even let him fuck you from time to time. It would be fun to watch. That's why I want to let you see him, so I can watch both of you.

"You can still have Delilah. You can still have lunch with him and speak to him and hold his hand. And you can kiss him, I won't mind. No one will be glaring at you. No one will call you names here. You can be with Delilah without worrying about bigotry. All I ask is that you be mine as well as Delilah's. "

Kurt chokes on a sob and puts a violently shaking hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide as he cries. He can't believe this. He shakes his head again. He can't. He just can't.

The barrel of the gun nudges against his forehead and he shuts his eyes tight. His heart is ramming against his chest. The metal is cold and unforgiving. This is really it, then. He is so sorry, he wishes he could tell Blaine that he's sorry. "Dinah... Please see reason." Kurt would laugh if he wasn't filled with abject terror. "You are making this far too difficult. Just say it. Just cooperate with me. You're too lovely to lose. I would be very sad if I had to get rid of you after you've made such progress."

Edward loosens his grip slightly but does not let go. "We'll try again, because I have faith in you. I know you can be good. But this is your last chance. I have no patience for dolls who refuse to do what they're told. So this is it. You can either agree or you can die, right now. Rule number seven."

Kurt whines through his tears and curls in on himself. If he had anything at all in his stomach he'd be throwing it up right now.

"If I want, you will let me fuck you."

He thinks of Blaine, how loving he is when they have sex. How Blaine took something Kurt thought would be uncomfortable and painful and something he would regret and turned it into something beautiful. Something he will always cherish. And now this man wants to take that away. He wants to tarnish it, ruin it, ruin Kurt. Kurt doesn't want to let him.

Edward cocks the gun and the motion of it makes the gun jump slightly against Kurt's forehead. He sobs louder and hugs himself tight. He doesn't want to die. He wants Blaine. He wants to go home and hide in Blaine's arms and forget about all of this.

He doesn't have a choice. It's either agree to rape or be killed. Give up everything he is or die. He swallows thickly, tries to control his sobs. "If you want..." he says, his voice hushed, as if saying this quietly will make it less painful, "I will let you... f-f-fuck me."

Edward smiles again. He slowly lowers the gun and retracts his hand. He leans back. "Very well done, my dear," he says. His voice is dark and sinister and satisfied. He nudges the tray of food over to Kurt. "You may eat now. I'm going to check on Delilah. I'll bring him by later, since you've done so well today."

And then he leans over and kisses Kurt on the top of his head. He hovers over him and says, "Just wait until I get your new outfit. You're going to be so much happier. You'll make a beautiful Alice in Wonderland."

Then he gets on his feet, and he walks out of the room, the door shutting softly behind him. There is the click of a lock that may as well be the bang of a cell door slamming shut.

Kurt collapses over onto his side and cries into the concrete floor. He can't be bothered with the meager food right now, because everything is looking so hopeless, and he nearly died just a few minutes ago, and he doesn't think he'll ever actually get out of this alive.

* * *

><p>You're not the one, not the one<br>and not only that you're not anyone, anyone  
>you're not anyone<br>yeah you're not the one, not the one  
>you're not anyone at all<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine walks a few paces behind Edward, keeping his head down but glancing up through his eyelashes every few seconds.<p>

Edward is taking him to see Kurt. He'd come to the foyer where Blaine was watering house plants and made the announcement that 'Dinah' was ready for visitors.

"I have decided to give you and Dinah some time alone," Edward says as he turns a corner, Blaine following after. "Dinah was very upset earlier and I think he'd really like to see you. But I will be just outside the room, and I will only be giving you half an hour. Does that sound fair?"

Blaine doesn't think any of this is fair. "Yes, it sound fair." He longs for the day that he'll be able to get back at this bastard.

They stop in front of a metal door with half a dozen locks on it. Edward opens all of them, then grabs the handle. "You will wait here while I make sure Dinah is ready to see you. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Blaine says quietly. Edward smiles and gives Blaine a quick pat on the cheek. Blaine wants to leap away from him, but he keeps his composure and doesn't drop his act.

The door opens, the hinges creaking ominously. Edward walks in and Blaine fights every urge to run into the dimly lit room and find Kurt. "Hello again Dinah. I see you've finished your supper!" Edward says. There isn't a response and Blaine is filled with worry. "I've brought Delilah along, he wants to see you. I've agreed to give the two of you half an hour to yourselves. See? I'm not unreasonable. I'm actually very nice for doing this, aren't I? Of course I am."

Blaine bites his lip and leans forward slightly, trying to look through the doorway without drawing attention. He can barely see anything in the room except Edward, who is only just inside the doorway. He can see Kurt, though. He's lying on the floor with his head in his arms. Blaine's heart plummets at the sight of welts along Kurt's bare arms and legs, the way he's shaking, the way he is trying to hide from Edward by curling up in a ball.

Edward starts to turn around, and Blaine snaps back to a demure stance before he can spot him peeking. "Delilah, darling, come on in." Blaine walks slowly into the room, keeping his head down. But he can't help the way he's looking at Kurt. He can't help the way his fists shake. He wants Edward to leave, right now. He never wants Edward anywhere near Kurt again.

"Don't worry, precious," Edward says to Blaine, taking his anger as distress at Kurt's condition. "He'll be all right. I'll be just outside the door. After your visit, you and I will have dinner. I'm making alfredo mostaccioli. And there's cinnamon and hazelnut biscotti with coffee for dessert. Would you like that?"

"I would like that very much," Blaine replies. Kurt looks up at him, his eyes red from crying. He looks shocked, hurt, and so lost. Blaine makes eye contact with him and tries to keep from flinging himself at him right this second.

"Lovely. I'll give you two your privacy, then." He leans forward and kisses Blaine on the cheek. It burns like acid, and as soon as the door is shut, Blaine wipes his hand against it and falls to the floor next to Kurt.

Before either can comprehend anything they are gripping each other and sobbing all over the other. Blaine can't stand seeing Kurt like this, so humiliated and so beaten down. He hugs as tight as he dares, knowing Edward has been whipping him and knowing how it hurts. Kurt flinches anyway and Blaine's heart breaks.

"Oh, Kurt," he sobs, "God, are you okay?"

Kurt sobs harder into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine kisses him lightly on the side of his neck, the easiest spot to reach, and holds him closer. Kurt is gripping the back of Blaine's dress, and he tries to burrow deeper in the embrace, and Blaine wishes he could just get them out right now, get Kurt someplace safe.

"Hush, honey..." Blaine says softly, running his hand through Kurt's hair. "Shh... It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay... I'm right here, honey. Calm down, please don't cry..."

"B-blaine...!" Kurt whines. "Oh fuck... Blaine, oh my God..."

"Shh, shh... calm down... You'll make yourself hyperventilate. Just take a deep breath. I've got you, Kurt."

Kurt sobs harder when Blaine uses his actual name, and Blaine only holds him tighter.

They spend nearly half of their thirty minutes just crying, just holding each other. Eventually, Blaine stops crying, but Kurt can't seem to. But they lean away from each other, and Blaine reaches up and cups the side of Kurt's face with his hand, brushing the tears away with his thumb. "He's hurt you," he says, his voice cracking.

Kurt puts his hand over Blaine's and leans into the touch, but doesn't look away. "He told me you'd given up."

"Never," Blaine says. He drops his voice, leans forward a bit to speak as quietly as possible. He doesn't know what Edward can hear from the other side of the door. "I won't give up. Edward thinks I have and that's what's important. He trusts me on my own. I found a knife. I'll use it and we can get out of here."

"Oh God Blaine, what are we gonna do?" Kurt says, just as quiet as Blaine. "He said he'd... He would... you know... do _that_ if he wanted. I don't want him, Blaine, I only want you."

"It'll be fine. I won't let him. I won't. He can have me, but he'll never get you. I swear it," Blaine says, his voice full of resolve.

Kurt shakes his head, causing Blaine to drop his hand to Kurt's shoulder. "No, no, no! I can't let you just... I can't let him _rape_ you just so he won't do it to me!"

Blaine leans forward again and nuzzles against Kurt, and Kurt wraps his shaking arms around Blaine's shoulders. Kurt hides his face in Blaine's hair, and Blaine puts his arms gently around Kurt's waist.

"I love you," Blaine says. Kurt's shoulders jerk as he starts to cry again. "I love you so much."

"I l-love you, too," Kurt says.

"I won't let him hurt you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did."

"I don't want him to hurt you either!" Kurt whines.

"I know," Blaine says softly. "But if everything works out, he won't do _that_ to you. He's having company tomorrow. He's going to show me off to him. Wants me to be the perfect doll. And I will be. And he said he'd reward me. He said he'd take me to his bedroom. He said... He said he would..." Blaine stops.

Kurt hugs him tighter. Blaine closes his eyes. They don't have time to hesitate. "He said he would let me sleep with him."

"Oh Blaine," Kurt says. "Don't do it, please God don't let him..."

"I have to," Blaine sits up, but doesn't move away. He and Kurt are all tangled up in each other, their noses are barely half an inch away. Blaine grabs one of Kurt's hands and places it on his chest, right where he's hidden the knife. Kurt gasps when he feels it. "I'll cut his throat while he sleeps."

Kurt looks up slowly to make eye contact again, and he looks a little frightened by Blaine's tone. "I don't want you to sleep with him."

"I don't want to either, but I haven't got a choice! It's either me or you. I'd rather it be neither of us, but if I had to choose... I'll go, to keep you safe from him. It'll only be one night. Then we can get out of here. I'll come for you tomorrow night, Kurt, and we can go home."

Kurt stares at Blaine for a moment, and then he starts to cry. And Blaine isn't far behind. They lean forward, closing the nearly non-existent gap, and they kiss.

It's slow and interrupted by hiccuping sobs. Their tears run together as they tangle their fingers in the other's hair. They keep going, longing for this madness to stop, feeling safe in each other's arms.

The door creaks open as they kiss, and Blaine can't bring himself to stop. Kurt can't seem to, either, and Edward says nothing. Blaine couldn't care less about him watching, possibly getting off on their kissing. Instead Blaine focuses all his love for Kurt in every little kiss he plants on Kurt's lips, trying to heal his damaged spirit as much as he can before he has to go. He's dreading the next night when he will be with Edward, alone in a bedroom, expected to be perfectly fine with rape because he's already anticipating it.

Edward clears his throat. "Delilah, darling. It's nearly time for dinner. Your half an hour is up." He sounds amused, and Blaine wishes he could cut his throat now and get it over with.

With a great deal of will power, more than Blaine even knew a human being was capable of possessing, he draws away from Kurt. He and Kurt stare into each other's eyes, and Blaine's hand lingers on Kurt's cheek for a moment. Then he stands, and his fingers drift away, and he has to get back into character.

It utterly breaks him to turn and walk away from Kurt as if it's no big deal. He can hear Kurt crying but he has to maintain composure. If Edward begins to suspect anything, the plan will fall apart and they'll lose their only chance of escape.

Kurt is depending on him to do door shuts as he walks out into the hall, and Edward beckons for him to follow. He has to play this part, just for a little while longer. He has to endure having unwanted sex with the man that kidnapped him and his boyfriend, because when else will he have access to Edward when he is asleep and completely vulnerable? He hates the thought, he's terrified, it makes him feel sick. But he has to do it. For Kurt.

Anything for Kurt.

* * *

><p>You better hear me say<br>(you better wise up)  
>It can never be that way<br>(you're on the way out)  
>You better hear me say<br>It can never be that way

* * *

><p>And once again I have somehow managed to update the day after my last chapter. Go me!<p>

Your reviews have been lovely. Hopefully you can tell that I'm taking them into account. :D

So, any thoughts on Blaine's plan? I still have a BAMF moment for Kurt coming up, it is going to be epic. And any guesses on the kidnapper? One reviewer guessed Sebastian. What do you think?

I work late tomorrow (Tuesday) but I won't have to go to work until 6pm on Wednesday, so I'll be able to stay up late and write. I still can't guarantee an update, though. It depends on how tired I am after work. :(

I love each and every one of you. You have no idea how much you brighten my day just by taking the time to read my fic.


	4. Judas

LOLITA

God, I just don't even know how to tell you guys how awesome you are. I was at work ALL DAY, and I kept checking ffnet on my phone and reading your reviews and it totally made my day like two million times better. And people are adding me to their 'favorite authors' list? WTF LET ME HUG YOU NOW

I'm upping the rating with this one. I'm not going to go into actual GRAPHIC rape, but I'm probably gonna toe the line here.

Also, we've had some guesses on the kidnapper's identity. So far people have guessed Sebastian, Mr. Shue, and Jeremiah. You'll find out if you were right in this chapter. :D

The song for this chapter should need no introduction, but I'll tell you anyway. It's Judas by Lady Gaga.

* * *

><p>When he comes to me I am ready<p>

I'll wash his feet with my hair if he needs

Forgive him when his tongue lies through his brain

Even after three times he betrays me

* * *

><p>Blaine has been up for at least an hour, lying on his bed in his room, dreading the day. Today Edward is expecting company, a friend of his, and wants Blaine to be 'perfectly well-behaved'.<p>

In all honesty, Blaine is so scared and stressed he feels sick to his stomach. He doesn't want this to happen to him, and he feels like he's being selfish by thinking that. The other option is Kurt going or one of them getting killed or some other horrible thing. Of course he will go so Kurt doesn't have to. It's only this one time. He just has to get through this one horrible, terrible thing and hope his plan works. But he's still scared, he still wishes he could think of a way where _neither_ of them have to go through this.

If this escape plan is going to work, he's got to have access to Edward while he's completely vulnerable. And what is a more vulnerable state than sleeping? Sure, before Edward goes to sleep he'll be having sex. With Blaine. And Blaine doesn't want it. So that makes it rape. And Blaine is terrified. But after he's asleep Blaine can kill him and get Kurt and they can leave.

That worries him, too. He's planning on killing someone. It bothers him that he doesn't want to kill Edward, even if he has kidnapped them and done terrible things to them. The fact remains, tonight Blaine will have unwanted sex and possibly commit murder.

Something could easily go wrong. He still doesn't know how he's going to have the knife with him and keep Edward from finding it. If Blaine hides it in his dress like he's been doing, Edward will surely find it as soon as Blaine takes it off. He needs to find a way to keep it with him, or at least keep it concealed until Edward is asleep, without Edward finding out.

He sits up sluggishly, running a hand over his hair. He has to wait for Edward to come get him so he can start doing chores. Meaningless things like watering house plants and sweeping and dusting.

Ever since he started acting more like the doll Edward wants him to be, he's been given a lot of leeway. He doesn't have to listen to chains dragging on the floor as he walks. He isn't even chained to the bed. He's given real food, while Kurt has probably been living off whatever meager scraps Edward brings him. He is more or less allowed to walk around unchecked, because Edward thinks he's given up the fight already. The act is killing him inside, pretending that he has no problem with answering to by a girl's name, being referred to as a doll, the property of a man who snatched Blaine and his boyfriend out of their lives for his own sick pleasure.

He has no idea what time it is, though he suspects it's rather early. Edward is in the habit of getting up at sunrise and coming to fetch Blaine sometime after nine o'clock in the morning. There are no windows in this room so Blaine's sense of time is skewered a bit. He could've woken up in the middle of the night and wouldn't know it. And really, that isn't too farfetched, because the silence and the darkness leaves him with only his thoughts, and all he can think about is what's coming later in the day.

There is a muffled sound, and at first Blaine is afraid it's Edward coming to get him. He realizes after a heart-stopping moment that it's rain. The sound barely comes through, but once he's calmed down he decides he'd better figure out something with his knife before Edward shows up, because he doesn't know when he'll have the opportunity to do so later.

He reaches under the mattress of his bed and finds the knife. He tugs it out of its hiding spot and holds it in his hand. He can't see it in the darkness, but he can feel it. He carefully runs his finger along it, making sure the cotton bandages from the other day are still wrapped around the blade. Once he's sure, he puts it down the front of the dress and maneuvers it carefully toward the waist so it won't be easily spotted.

He rests his hand over it. The can feel it press against him, about two inches down from his breast bone. It's presence makes him feel just a tiny bit safer.

The sound of the rain is getting steadily louder, and Blaine can pick out another sound in it. The sound of echoing footsteps coming down the hallway outside the room. He closes his eyes and sits up straight. He digs down deep for the motivation to play the part he needs to play.

Once the door opens he'll have to face the day. It'll set everything in motion and he won't be able to stop it.

* * *

><p>I'll bring him down<p>

Bring him down, down

A king with no crown

King with no crown

* * *

><p>The sitting room would be impressive to Kurt if he wasn't in this situation. It's cozy and warm. And misleading.<p>

He's sitting in a squashy armchair, looking despondently out a window, watching the rain fall. He's wearing a different dress. It's blue with a white apron and covered in stupid lace and ribbons and he hates it. He's even got the white stockings and the black Mary Janes on his feet. Edward brought the dress this morning and Kurt put it on without argument. But the dress certainly isn't the worst of it. The wig is the worst. It's long and blonde and has a simple black headband in it. He slowly runs his hand over the hair, feeling its softness. He was expecting something cheap, but he ought to have known better. This wig is probably one of those really expensive ones, made from real hair. It makes him feel gross, wearing someone else's hair. He wants nothing more than to just tear it off. He wants nothing more than to light this disgusting dress on fire. But he can't.

Blaine needs him to play Edward's game. They have to get through tonight. And Blaine has pretty much offered himself up for something terrible, and there isn't a damn thing Kurt can do to stop it. The worst thing he could possibly do at this point is anything to jeopardize Blaine's plan, so he doesn't fight it.

A door opens and Kurt looks over. He would be lying if he were to say he isn't shocked to see Blaine trailing along behind Edward, carrying a silver tray with a glass bottle of scotch and two highball glasses. He wasn't expecting to see him again so soon. But in the presence of Edward, Blaine may as well not even be here. He keeps his eyes downcast and just walks along, carrying the tray with far-too-steady hands. Kurt notices Blaine also wearing stockings and shoes with his outfit, modest black flats. He wonders where Edward found girl shoes that would fit them.

"Good morning, Dinah. You look adorable in your new dress! And the wig suits you. I'm so glad it came today, what with us having company!" Edward says. He sits in one of the other two chairs, and Blaine stops next to him, still holding the silver tray. Edward looks up at him. "Just set that down over on the table, Delilah."

Blaine walks over to a small table between Edward's chair and the only other empty chair in the room. Kurt, being across the room from Edward, watches Blaine walk over and set down the tray. Blaine flicks his eyes over to him and they hold each other's eyes for a split second.

In that second Kurt is filled with hope and warmth and determination. Blaine smiles ever so slightly at him, then drops it quickly as he turns and walks back to Edward's side.

Once Blaine is back by the chair, Edward says, "We're going to have a little chat about what I expect from you two today. I'm sure you both know by now that I'm having company today. He's a very important friend of mine. He is called Mr. Schwindt and I expect you both to treat him with the utmost respect."

Kurt looks away from Blaine to stare down Edward. The look in his eyes is dark as ever. "Dinah," Edward says, "you have come a long way in such a short time. But you and I have had our disagreements. I can assure you, if you set one toe out of line today you will not live to see nightfall."

Blaine shifts slightly on his feet, and Kurt glances at him. His eyes are still at the floor, but they're wide and angry and scared.

"Now. I would hate for this discussion to be nothing but me reprimanding you! So, if you can both behave yourselves, and if you can make a good enough impression on Mr. Schwindt, I promise you'll be rewarded. I've already discussed this with you, Delilah," Edward reaches over and wraps his fingers around Blaine's wrist. "I know you're looking forward to that. But I wouldn't want to leave out poor Dinah."

Blaine jerks and Edward looks up at him as he lets go of his wrist. Kurt's heart hammers as he takes in Blaine's expression. He's never seen Blaine look so enraged.

"Now, Delilah, don't be jealous!" Edward says with a little laugh, clearly misreading Blaine's anger. "I promise you'll go first. Then you can have Dinah, and if I feel up to it I suppose I'll have him too. How does that sound?"

Kurt bites his lip and watches helplessly as Blaine stands there, tormented. After a beat of silence, Blaine says, so quietly Kurt can barely hear him, "That sounds nice, sir."

"Very good, then. I'm glad we're all in agreement." He sighs happily and leans back in his chair.

The sound of the rain outside washes over Kurt and he tries to allow it to calm his nerves. He keeps his eyes on Blaine, who merely stands there, trying to find the strength to stay in character.

* * *

><p>I'm just a holy fool, oh baby it's so cruel<p>

But I'm still in love with Judas, baby

I'm just a holy fool, oh baby it's so cruel

But I'm still in love with Judas, baby

* * *

><p>It's just after noon when the doorbell rings. Edward looks up from his book and smiles at Delilah, who has been standing quietly by his desk like a good little doll. "Oh, that must be him! Quick, Delilah, we have to go get the door. Where did we leave Dinah, again?"<p>

They rush out of Edward's study, Delilah staying just two paces behind. "The sitting room, sir," Delilah responds in his lovely whisper.

"Of course, of course. Why don't you go on ahead to the sitting room, then. I will be along with our guest shortly, so make sure you and Dinah are presentable when we come. I would hate for him to walk in on you two having a moment like I did yesterday! I have an image to maintain, after all."

"Of course, sir. Whatever you want."

Edward stops and turns, smiling sweetly. Delilah also stops, waiting, knowing his owner well enough to know when he ought to stop and listen. Edward reaches forward and runs his fingers carefully through Delilah's curly hair, reveling in the softness of it. "You're such a good girl," he says.

Delilah just ducks his head down farther. Edward figures he is being coy, perhaps taken off guard by the compliment. "No time to waste, dearest. Run along, now, I'll be along in a moment."

Once Delilah is on his way to the sitting room, Edward makes his way to the foyer and opens the front door. On the other side is a rather well-dressed gentleman, probably in his late forties, with a young man standing just behind him. "Good afternoon! You must be Mr. Schwindt."

"Yes indeed. Edward, I take it?" Mr Schwindt says, his tone strict and indicative of high breeding.

"Yes. Pleasure to meet you," Edward says eagerly as he steps aside, allowing Mr. Schwindt inside.

Mr. Schwindt and the young man with him walk in, and Mr. Schwindt looks over the foyer with a haughty glare. "Quite an impressive property."

"Thank you, thank you. May I ask, who have you brought with you?" Edward asks as he takes Mr Schwindt's suit jacket and umbrella.

"Oh, forgive me. I've forgotten my manners. This is Gabriel. I've had him for nearly five years now. Brought him home when he was only twenty. You'd be about his age now, correct, Edward?"

"Perhaps," Edward says with a sly grin. "He's lovely."

"He is, isn't he?" Mr Schwindt nudges Gabriel and the young man looks up slightly. Edward takes note of the look in his eyes.

Lifeless. Dead. The light is gone. Not at all like Delilah or Dinah. They still have that spark in their eyes. He hopes they never lose it, because he can't love someone like Gabriel, someone who has nothing behind their eyes.

"Mr. Edward has given you a compliment, Gabriel. What do you say?"

Gabriel bows his head again and says "Thank you very much for your kind words, sir. I don't deserve your kindness."

"Very good, lad. Now then," Mr. Schwindt turns to Edward, "Where are these new additions of yours? I'd love to hear how they're coming along."

They start walking down the hallway, Edward trying not to stumble in his excitement. "They're actually coming along better than when we last spoke. I've had very few problems with Delilah, and I had a little talk with Dinah last night and he seems to be coming around."

"Always good to hear," Mr. Schwindt says. "Of course there is always room for improvement. Isn't that right, Gabriel?"

Gabriel says nothing, but Edward isn't paying any attention to him. "Yes, of course," he says. "I look forward to hearing your opinion on them."

Mr. Schwindt only nods. Then he says, "You mentioned that you've been after one of them for nearly a year now."

"Yes, that'd be Delilah. I was going after someone else entirely, working at the local mall, in the Gap. I met Delilah and we had coffee a few times. He was enamored with me even then. Came to where I worked and sang a love song for me! Can you believe it?"

"Oh, he sings?"

"He does. He has a lovely voice, too. But I haven't heard him for a long time. In fact, after he sang for me that last time I shot him down. Distanced myself from him."

They come upon the sitting room, and Edward has to reign in his excitement before opening the door. "Here we are, then." And he opens the door and he and his guests walk in.

* * *

><p>I couldn't love a man so purely<p>

Even prophets forgave his crooked way

I've learned love is like a brick, you can

Build a house or sink a dead body

* * *

><p>Blaine opens the door to the sitting room and shuts it quietly behind him. Kurt is sitting in the same chair, still staring out the window at the dreary weather. "Kurt," he says, and Kurt looks over, startled.<p>

"What's happening?" he says, sounding nervous. Blaine rushes over to him and kneels on the floor in front of him, takes his hand in both of his own.

"Edward's visitor is here. He's bringing him here in a few minutes," Blaine says. Kurt takes a shaky breath and his eyes flutter closed.

"Blaine... I'm so scared... What he said earlier..."

"Don't be, please don't be. I've adjusted our plan a little." Kurt looks back at Blaine as he stands. Blaine smiles a little as he rests his hand over his stomach. "I found a needle and thread today while I was cleaning the guest room. Funny thing, this dress has a lining in it. I sewed the knife into it."

"Oh," Kurt says, surprised. "So he won't find it?"

"Right." Blaine leans down so he can kiss Kurt softly on the forehead. "As soon as I'm alone with Edward I'll... do it."

Kurt makes a soft sound, like a plaintive whine. "I wish you didn't have to do this. Kill somebody... Even if he is a psychopath."

"I don't want to do it, either, but what other choice do we have? If we're really lucky, I might not have to... you know."

"Be _raped_?"

Blaine smiles sadly at Kurt. He then reaches out and adjusts the blonde wig. His nerves are completely frayed, knowing Edward could walk in any second. But this may be the last time he has a moment alone with Kurt before Edward tries to sleep with him. "...I love you so much, Kurt. I'd do anything for you."

"I know..." Kurt says. He grabs Blaine, hugging him, resting his forehead against Blaine's stomach. Blaine lets his hands wander to Kurt's back, lying against his shoulder blades where he can feel the new scars formed from Edward's riding crop. "I hate to think that you're about to kill another person, though."

"I was thinking the same thing earlier today," Blaine says. "But if I have to kill another person to get us out of this, then I will."

"I just wish there was more I could do," Kurt shifts a little. His voice wavers slightly as though he's about to cry. Blaine sincerely hopes he doesn't cry, because then he would start crying. "Everything is falling on you."

Blaine doesn't respond; he hears voices coming from the hallway. "They're coming."

"Oh God," Kurt whines. He hugs Blaine tighter. "Oh God, Blaine..."

"Shh, don't get upset," Blaine says in an urgent whisper. He can hear an unfamiliar voice, and he assumes it's Edward's guest. Blaine backs slowly away from Kurt, trying to apologize with his eyes. Kurt starts making an attempt to calm down.

"... been after one of them for nearly a year now."

Edward's voice comes after, and he sounds excited. "Yes, that'd be Delilah. I was going after someone else entirely, working at the local mall, in the Gap. I met Delilah and we had coffee a few times. He was enamored with me even then. Came to where I worked and sang a love song for me! Can you believe it?"

Blaine feels like he's been punched in the gut. He can't believe it... This means... This madman who kidnapped them, who seems vaguely familiar... He couldn't quite recognize him with his buzz cut. But now, after hearing that, the realization slams into him like a freight train. He looks back at Kurt, whose eyes must be as wide as his own.

"Jeremiah...!" Kurt says weakly.

Blaine feels weak in the knees, like he might pass out. He puts a hand over his mouth. He thought he was in love with Jeremiah. He sang a love song to a maniacal kidnapper. He brought all his friends from Dalton, including Kurt, to serenade a man who had kidnapped people and killed people.

They're just outside the door. Blaine struggles to find his composure. Kurt takes a deep breath and Blaine tries the same.

The handle turns, and Edward walks in. "Hello darlings! I'd like you to meet Mr. Schwindt and his pet, Gabriel."

Blaine is still trying to remember how to breathe. But he cannot possibly afford to screw up now. He turns slowly to Edward and Mr. Schwindt. His eyes find the young man, Gabriel, standing just behind the imposing Mr. Schwindt. He gives a little bow, but keeps his eyes on Gabriel. He has never seen a person look so lifeless while still able to stand under their own strength. He can feel Edward's eyes on him and realizes he must be expected to say hello. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," he says quietly.

"You would be Delilah, yes?" Mr. Schwindt asks. His voice scares Blaine, the way it seems to echo around him even though there is no echo in the room.

"Yes, sir."

"And this," Mr. Schwindt looks to Kurt, "must be Dinah."

Kurt stays seated. Blaine looks over at him, trying to be covert about it. Though Kurt isn't responding to Mr. Schwindt, he is merely staring down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. It must be taking all of his will power not to glare daggers at him.

"Dinah," Edward says, his voice seemingly light, but there is the familiar threat underneath it. "Please don't be rude to our guest. Say hello, darling."

Kurt looks up at Blaine, then looks over at Mr. Schwindt. He stands, and Blaine wouldn't believe it if he hadn't seen it, and gives a little curtsey. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Blaine feels sick. Edward comes up and stands next to him, smiling again. Blaine wants to run away from him, even more than before. Because now he knows that he came so close to being in this situation before, practically fell into it. "Delilah, be a dear and get Mr. Schwindt something to drink, would you?" Edward says. He turns to Mr. Schwindt, "Would you like to sit? Have a scotch with me?"

"I would be delighted," Mr. Schwindt says. He takes the chair nearest Kurt as Blaine pours out a glass of scotch. He hands it to the man, keeping his eyes down.

Edward sits in his chair and crosses his legs. He smiles at Blaine once he brings him a glass of scotch, and Blaine quickly moves to stand behind and to the side of the chair. "So," Edward says after taking a small sip of his scotch, "What do you think?"

"This one must be giving you problems," Mr. Schwindt nods to Kurt, who blushes a bit. "The other seems obedient enough, but he can certainly use a lesson or two in manners. May I ask why you've got one in a wig and not the other?"

"Oh, that," Edward giggles and looks over at Blaine. "I simply love Delilah's hair. I couldn't hide it under a wig! Dinah, though, he looks rather fetching with blonde hair, don't you think?"

They continue chatting like this, and Blaine stands there in his proper spot, struggling with the urge to scream or cry or just take off running. He's still reeling. He can't believe this. Jeremiah... This whole time it was Jeremiah.

He glances surreptitiously at Gabriel again. He's standing by the door, his posture ramrod-straight, save for his bowed head. His sandy-blonde hair is long enough that it hides his eyes, hanging over his face. Blaine is sickened to find that he's slightly jealous of him, because he's standing there in slacks and a pale blue dress shirt. He and Kurt have to endure the humiliation of wearing these dresses.

He ought to be following the conversation. He can't afford to be distracted. He brings his attention back to the voices floating around him.

Edward finishes telling Mr. Schwindt a romanticized version of how he 'brought them home', referring to his kidnapping Blaine and Kurt. Just as he and Mr. Schwindt share a good chuckle over it, the grandfather clock near the fireplace starts chiming.

"Goodness," Edward says, "It's nearly time for dinner!" He turns to Blaine. "Delilah, why don't you go ahead and set the table. We'll be in once I take Dinah back to his room."

"Yes, sir," Blaine says. He glances fleetingly at Kurt as he makes his way out of the room.

He tries to ignore Gabriel as he walks by him. The dead look in his eyes is incredibly unsettling. He leaves as quietly as possible, not paying attention to the conversation resuming as he shuts the door.

Once he's out in the hallway, he runs for the kitchen as best he can in these shoes. It's not far, thank God, but he nearly trips twice.

He runs in and bypasses the cabinets where Edward keeps his best dinner plates, the ones he knows he ought to be setting out for dinner. Instead he stumbles into the small bathroom connected to the kitchen by a short and narrow hallway. He collapses on the floor in front of the toilet and promptly throws up.

Once he's finished, he takes a second to just breathe and to try and comprehend this new information. "God," he gasps, and he spits into the toilet a few times in an attempt to get the disgusting taste out of his mouth.

He has his moment and then he has to get to work. They're only halfway through the act. He can't stop to try and make sense of this, that he _flirted with a psychopath_.

He walks shakily back into the kitchen and grabs the dish ware. He feels strangely dead inside, and he doesn't know how to deal with this.

The mundane task of setting the table takes no time at all. After he's done, he heads back into the kitchen and starts re-heating the precooked meal.

As he stirs a sauce he can't remember the name of, he sets his free hand against his stomach, where he sewed the knife into the dress.

It doesn't matter who Edward was. He has to believe that. Because tonight it'll be over, and it won't matter.

* * *

><p>Oh oh oh oh<p>

I'm in love with Judas, Judas

Oh oh oh oh

I'm in love with Judas, Judas

* * *

><p>UUUGH IT'S LIKE SEVEN IN THE MORNING<p>

There you go! It was Jeremiah. Congrats to those of you who guessed correctly! To those of you who did not, you should know that when I got your guesses I was like "Hmm... Could I feasibly change it to Sebastian/Mr. Shue? It would be so fitting if it was Sebastian, and so unexpected if it was Mr. Shue..." But I stuck to my outline.

I kind of did a rush job on this chapter to get it up before I went to bed. I hope it isn't too terrible... :( i wrote the whole chapter in like an hour and a half... *hangs head in shame*

The next chapter is going to have Blaine's plan going into action as well as Kurt's BAMF moment. And Gabriel will figure into it. I know some of you want more Kurt in the story, so you can look forward to next chapter. :D

Once again, don't be horribly disappointed if I don't update tomorrow. I work late again and I have been staying up late every night writing this, and I've been just exhausted! lol.

Thank you all so much for reading. You all give me warm fuzzies~


	5. Break Me Shake Me

LOLITA

Sorry I didn't update as planned. As I mentioned, I've been almost stupidly tired. Good news is I'm off work today so I slept a lot, and now I'm on my third Monster and my mom bought me some peanut M&Ms so I'm pretty much blitzed rn. :D

Thank you again for all your incredibly nice reviews, and for the alerts and favs, and especially thank you for reading this. Some of you must be reading this repeatedly because the hits counter is twice as big as the visitor counter. :D

I feel like I need to clarify, because I was reading over what I wrote last. When i was growing up, 'lunch' and 'dinner' were interchangeable. This is according to my mom. It goes in this order: breakfast, dinner, supper. She would tell us kids that we were having, say, PB & J for dinner, and we'd get all upset because that's not a very satisfying dinner when you're used to big home-cooked meals every night. And then we'd realize she was doing that thing again and we'd say 'mom, it's LUNCH, not DINNER' and she'd be like 'oh hush trololol'. And eventually it stuck, so now as an adult, if I have something to eat in mid-afternoon I call it 'dinner'. /tldr

We will be going into 'M' rated territory in this chapter. I thought about upping the rating for the whole story, but THERE WILL NOT BE SMUT/RAPE. But it'll get pretty damn close. And there will be violence. So I reckon this is just pretty strong 'T', considering the 'M' material out there.

Today's song is a classic; Break Me Shake Me by Savage Garden.

* * *

><p>I never thought I'd change my<br>Opinion again  
>But you moved me in a way that I've<br>Never known  
>You moved me in a way that I've<br>Never known

* * *

><p>The silence has never perturbed Kurt more.<p>

He is in his room again, but he has company. Gabriel is standing near the door, with his head still bowed and being about as lively as a coat rack. Kurt is picking at his dinner, which is a bit more substantial than before. Two carrots, a toasted bagel, and a glass of milk. He's more interested in Gabriel, though, because the nervousness about what's going to happen tonight has completely killed his appetite.

"Hey," he says softly, "Gabriel, right? Do you want something to eat?"

Gabriel stands silently, but after a second shakes his head slowly.

Kurt tuts softly. "Oh come on, you're as thin as a rail. I know it's not much, but I'm not very hungry."

Still nothing. Gabriel just stands there looking, to Kurt, like one of those sad puppies on those ASPCA commercials. He sighs and gets on his feet, setting the plate on the bed, and walks over to Gabriel.

He doesn't react, so Kurt bends down slightly to try and catch his eyes. They're pointed at the floor, and they hold no emotion. Kurt feels his heart drop, because if something goes wrong tonight this could easily be him and Blaine. If they're lucky. "You could at least come sit down on the bed," Kurt says quietly.

Gabriel looks up slightly, but is resolutely avoiding Kurt's eyes. "I can't. I'm very sorry." And he ducks his head back down.

"Why not? There isn't anyone else in here, in case you couldn't notice. Everyone else is having dinner right now, they won't be back for at least an hour."

"If my master finds me disobeying the rules he will be very upset," Gabriel says in a dead voice.

Kurt stands up straight, and he frowns. "We can hear them coming. You can sit down and have a damn carrot and some milk, and when I hear anyone coming I'll let you know, and you can go back to pretending to be a piece of furniture. Just sit on the bed with me, please. Eat some of this food."

Gabriel looks up again, but this time he raises his head all the way and looks back at Kurt with an odd look on his face. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asks.

"Well," Kurt says as he carefully takes Gabriel's hand, "you and I are both in really bad situations. And we can help each other out of them. And more importantly, you're a person, just like any other person, and no one should be treated like this."

Gabriel stays quiet as Kurt leads him over to the bed, but it seems like a different kind of quiet. Kurt nudges him on the shoulder once they're by the bed, and Gabriel sits down. Kurt sits next to him and hands him a carrot, watching him intently. "Go on," Kurt says, "it's not gonna hurt you." And to prove his point, Kurt takes a bite off his own carrot even though eating anything only exacerbates his nausea.

Gabriel slowly takes a small bite off the tapered end of the carrot, his eyes blown wide with fear.

They sit in silence, save for the noise from eating. Kurt wants to ask Gabriel so many things, like who this Mr. Schwindt is and what he's like, how dangerous he is. But Gabriel is eating the food at a healthy pace while still maintaining good manners and Kurt doesn't want to say anything that'll scare him off. Kurt wonders when he last had anything to eat. He tears the bagel in half and offers it to Gabriel, who takes it. "Thank you," he says.

"You're very welcome," Kurt says. He takes a small sip of milk, then blurts out, "Gabriel... Have you ever thought about... escaping?"

"I used to. A lot. When my master first brought me home. But he caught me trying to escape. He was very angry." Gabriel says.

"Oh," Kurt hands the glass of milk off to Gabriel, who takes it with only a bit of hesitation. "Would you like to escape? Because Blaine - Delilah - and I are planning on escaping tonight."

The glass hits the floor, and the remaining milk spills over the concrete floor. Gabriel is staring unabashedly back at Kurt, his eyes impossibly wide. "No, you mustn't! Running away gets us into trouble. Terrible things happen when you run away! It's best to just stay. Best to just give up."

Kurt glares back, and Gabriel immediately backs down, looking away and muttering apologies. "We're trying tonight," Kurt says. "Blaine and I will get out of here or we'll die trying."

"They'll catch you," Gabriel whispers. "They always catch you. You think you can plan the perfect escape but they're always two steps ahead of you."

Kurt leans toward Gabriel, invading his personal space and not caring. "You could come with us. You could help us! Don't you want to get away, be treated like a person again? Didn't you have family and friends before all this? Wouldn't they like to see you again?"

"They think I'm dead. It's the same with you, I guarantee it. By now they'll have moved on. They're better off without me, anyway."

"Did that bastard tell you that?" Kurt hisses. "He's wrong, Gabriel. Is that even your real name? What was your name, before he kidnapped you?"

Gabriel is silent, but Kurt can see his eyes welling up with tears. He feels like he's pushing too much, like if he's too forceful Gabriel will just clam up. But after a few moments, Gabriel says, "Chase Reagan."

And he starts crying, and Kurt can tell he's had a lot of practice at being quiet when he cries. Kurt can't stand the sight of this poor young man, who's been treated like shit for years now, breaking down into silent tears. He carefully puts an arm around his shoulders, and at first Gabriel - Chase - jumps violently and tries to get away, but Kurt will have none of it.

"It's okay, Chase," he says. He fully anticipated the reaction from him when hearing his real name, but it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking. Chase folds in on himself and shakes as tears fall. Once or twice he chokes on a sob, trying desperately to hide the sound. "It's okay," Kurt says, "If everything works out like we planned, you and me and Blaine will be leaving tonight."

Chase shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, no, no," he gasps, "They'll find out, and we'll all be punished, and if I try to escape again master said he'd make all my past punishments seem like nothing, and-"

"Chase," Kurt says gently, cutting over Chase's hysterical rambling, "That's what he wants you to think. You're giving up because he's made you think there's no other way."

"What's your plan, then?" Chase says, showing the first bit of emotion in his voice besides panic or sadness. Challenging, demanding.

"Edward... Is going to sleep with Blaine tonight. He may want me there, too. But Blaine has a knife, he's sewn it into the lining of his dress. And once Edward goes to sleep Blaine said... He'll cut his throat."

Chase shakes his head slowly. "Too many things could go wrong..." he says, sighing. "If Mr. Edward finds the knife, or if De-...I mean... Blaine, what if he can't get to the knife? What if Mr. Edward wakes up before Deli-... I mean, Blaine, can kill him? Killing someone isn't easy, you know."

"I know," Kurt says. "I wish there was some other way, because I'd like these bastards to get life in jail for this. I'd like them to face the consequences for this. But how else are we going to get away?"

"You've forgotten about my master," Chase says darkly. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the opposite wall. "He's a terrifying man. And he's very cunning. He might even already know."

"That's ridiculous," Kurt scoffs. "The only way he'd know Blaine was planning to kill Edward was if he'd seen the inside of the dress of something."

"You'd be surprised. These types of men, the type who collect living dolls, they have to be cunning and quick-witted. Or they won't get very far in their collection. They'll botch their first attempt and then they go to jail."

Kurt is reminded of what Edward said about his first kidnap victim, Hannah. How it was 'such a botched attempt' or something. "I think Edward may be a bit inexperienced at this, anyway. Most of his victims he's killed."

Chase is frowning curiously at the wall, running his thumb over the knuckles on the opposite hand. After a moment, he bows his head again. "...I am so tired," he says. "It's been years..."

Kurt puts a hand on his thin shoulder and rubs it carefully. "We can go home, Chase. We can. But you have to help me. We have to help Blaine."

"And how are we going to do that from in here?" Chase asks softly, his voice heavy with disbelief.

It's a good question. Kurt looks over at the door. He knows it's a long shot, but he has to try. He stands up and walks over to the door. He grabs the handle.

"It's not going to open," Chase says, but Kurt doesn't listen. He turns the handle slowly, and it turns all the way. His heart hammers in his chest.

He stops once the handle is at a ninety-degree angle, and he has to think. He knows these doors are loud and creaky and the house is big and echoes. He knows if he just wrenches the door open, it'll make a racket and Edward might hear it. Instead, he pulls on the handle unbearably slow, willing it stay quiet.

The door moves, and the hinges make no sound as Kurt gingerly pulls it open. He's breathing hard, not believing this. The door is _opening_. It's not even locked.

He gets it open enough that there's barely half an inch between the door and the frame and he looks from top to bottom. There's nothing keeping the door shut. He turns slowly to Chase, who is sitting ramrod straight on the bed. He looks surprised, and Kurt can see the spark of hope rekindling in his eyes.

* * *

><p>But straight away you just moved<br>Into position again  
>You abused me in a way that I've<br>Never known  
>You abused me in a way that I've<br>Never known

* * *

><p>"Your Delilah is a wonderful cook, Mr. Edward. I'm rather impressed," Mr Schwindt says lightly.<p>

They're walking down the hallway much later in the day. Edward is leading the way, showing Mr. Schwindt to the guest room. "Yes, thank you. He's wonderful. I'll be rewarding him tonight!" Edward turns to look at Blaine, who's taking up the rear and keeping his eyes on the floor.

They've spent the day mostly chatting, with Blaine standing near Edward. He is still not over his shock at finding out that Edward is Jeremiah, especially not when the two men spent the afternoon talking about their kidnappings as a hobby, a way to pass the time, something with no consequence.

"Ah. Will it be his first?" Mr Schwindt asks. His tone is light, but Blaine feels sickened at the jealousy coloring it.

"It will be since I brought him home. He is Dinah's boyfriend, you see, so he's had him. But tonight I'll be taking Delilah, and I'm sure he's looking forward to it."

They continue walking, and Edward changes the subject, but Blaine is still thinking about what he said. He is incredibly offended that Edward just assumes that Kurt is always on the bottom. That's not how it is at all. Sure, Kurt has been on the bottom, but he's topped too, and he's amazing either way. Edward assumes he's always on bottom because Kurt is more on the effeminate side, and the assumption makes Blaine's blood boil. This man doesn't know his Kurt, who is so loving, so sweet, so perfect. All Edward sees is a pretty boy that he can keep on a leash.

"Here we are," Edward says, gesturing to the oak doors of the guest room. "Would you like me to send Gabriel along?"

"No need," Mr Schwindt says in a haughty voice. "I don't care for men, and having the boy in the room while I'm trying to sleep is distracting. Can I trust you to keep him contained?"

"Of course," Edward says with a smile. "Since Delilah will be with me tonight, Gabriel can have his room. That way if we'd like Dinah to join us later, we won't need to disturb your boy."

"Lovely," Mr Scwindt nods once. "I'll speak to you tomorrow morning, then, about your own boys."

"I look forward to it, Mr. Schwindt. Please don't hesitate to let us know if you should need anything."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Good night. Mr. Edward."

Mr. Schwindt goes into the guest room, and once the door is shut, Edward starts walking toward his own room, and Blaine follows behind.

They walk into Edward's room in silence. Edward allows Blaine in first, pushing him in gently and shutting the door behind him as he walks in. "Are you ready, Delilah?" he asks. His voice is husky and scary and Blaine swallows thickly.

"Of course, sir," he says softly. "Whatever you want."

* * *

><p>So break me shake me hate me<br>Take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone  
>Just break me shake me hate me<br>Take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone

* * *

><p>It's well after ten o'clock when Kurt finally convinces Chase to sneak out of the room with him. The whole house is silent, and he has forgone the Mary Janes, walking around in the stockings so he doesn't make as much noise. Chase follows him down the hallway, equally silent, because he's afraid of being found disobeying.<p>

Kurt doesn't know exactly where Edward's room is, but the house isn't so big and confusing that he can't make an educated guess. He knows where the sitting room is, and the dining room, and he can see the foyer as he walks down the main hallway. He has to stop and stare at the front door, willing himself to believe that the three of them will walk through that door to freedom.

After a moment's hesitation, he and Chase climb the stairs in the foyer to the second level. Kurt has to stop again at the top, on a landing, where Edward has a desk facing a large window, flanked by bookshelves.

On the desk is Edward's revolver with the supplies he uses to clean it laying haphazardly around it.

Kurt turns slowly to look at Chase. He's staring at the gun, practically salivating at the sight of it. Kurt bites his lip at the look on the older boy's face. "Chase," he whispers as quietly as possible. Chase snaps out of whatever daydream he was in and looks back at Kurt.

Kurt goes over and picks up the gun. It is surprisingly heavy. He turns and looks back at Chase again. "Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

* * *

><p>So you're the kind that deals with the<br>Games in the mind  
>Well you confuse me in a way that<br>I've never known  
>You confuse me in a way that I've<br>Never known

* * *

><p>Edward shoves Blaine onto the bed with a sinister grin. "We'll start slowly," he says.<p>

He reaches back and starts tugging down on the zipper. He goes slowly, probably trying to be seductive, but Blaine can only lay in terror at the look in Edward's eyes. The look of a predator that has snagged its prey.

The zipper comes all the way down to the slight curve in Blaine's lower back. Once it's there Edward grabs the front of the dress and starts tugging on it, pulling the sleeves off Blaine's arms until the top half hangs limp around Blaine's hips. "Take it off, Delilah," Edward hisses.

With shaking hands, Blaine hooks his thumbs around the hem of the dress's waistline and starts wiggling out of it. He feels like there's a ton of bricks on his bare chest, because he can hardly breathe. Apparently he's going too slow for Edward's tastes, because Edward suddenly reaches out and grabs the dress and wrenches it off.

"Stop being coy," Edward says angrily. Blaine has never heard anyone sound so terrifying. He can't even remember that he's supposed to be acting defeated, all he knows in this moment is pure horror at what is happening to him.

Edward has turned toward the dresser and is going through the top drawer. He turns after a moment, holding something behind his back. "Lay against the headboard, Delilah."

Blaine scoots back until his back is against the wrought iron headboard. He has an inkling of what Edward is hiding and he hopes with every fiber of his being that he's wrong.

Edward steps forward a bit, then stops. His smile is crooked and frightening. "Lay down. I want you to be comfortable, after all."

The feeling of foreboding increases as Blaine slowly lays down, his head resting on an overly fluffy pillow. He feels uncomfortable, lying here on his back in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs while Edward looms over him.

"Now, if you would, please grab onto the headboard."

Blaine can't help the pitiful whine that comes out of him as he slowly reaches up and wraps his shaking hands around the iron bar. Edward only seems to enjoy himself more at the sound. Blaine can't stand to look at that hungry expression anymore, so he closes his eyes.

Something cold and metallic wraps around his left wrist, then his right. There is the distinctive sound of handcuffs shutting, and he wants to cry.

If he's handcuffed to the headboard he won't be able to get to the knife. Once the sounds stop, he hesitantly opens his eyes.

Edward is taking off his own clothes, staring at Blaine. Blaine lets go of the iron bar over him, and his heart seems to stop when his arms are stopped from dropping by the silver handcuffs around his wrists, attached to the metal bar. He looks up at it, feeling sick, because now he's lost any illusion of control, and now it's really setting in.

A pair of pants is tossed to the floor near the bed, and Blaine looks back to Edward. He's standing there, naked, half-hard, grinning like a maniac.

"Finally," Edward says, "after all these years, I get to have you all for myself. I finally get to fuck Blaine Anderson."

And he can't help it when he starts to cry. Blaine wants to keep the tears hidden, he wants to try and forget about the time he sang to this man in a mall. He wants to will himself out of here, he wants out.

"Don't cry, darling," Edward sighs as he straddles Blaine. "I promise it won't hurt too much."

* * *

><p>So break me shake me hate me<br>Take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone  
>So won't you break me shake me hate me<br>Take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone

* * *

><p>Kurt can see a soft light coming from under two doors in the hallway. One is closer to him, and the other is just down the hall. Chase stands next to him, holding the gun as though it's his lifeline. And really, in a way, it is.<p>

Kurt gets as close as he dares to the first door, listens for a moment, then turns back to Chase. He doesn't dare speak, but only mouths the words when he says, "I hear someone in here."

Chase nods once. He starts forward, and gets right next to the door, presses his ear against it. His eyes widen, and Kurt wonders what he hears. He sidles in next to him and leans toward the door, glad he left the wig in the room so he won't have to move it out of the way.

On the other side, there is the unmistakable sound of grunting and shifting and a sickening _smack smack smack._

Kurt puts a hand over his mouth because he really might vomit. He can't hear Blaine at all, and that nearly sends him spiraling over the edge with worry. All he can hear is the grunting and _that_ sound, sick and wet.

Chase reaches out for the door handle and starts turning it, slowly, holding the gun in his right hand, ready to shoot. His eyes are blazing with the potential for revenge. Kurt doesn't want to look in that room and see what's happening to his Blaine, but he has to stay strong, so he stands behind Chase as the door opens.

Once it's nearly two inches open, Chase stops. His eyes widen slightly at what he sees, and Kurt looks over his shoulder to see for himself.

Inside is Mr Schwindt, lying back on the bed, totally naked. His eyes are closed and he looks sated and rather pleased. Kurt realizes what has happened and feels a strange desire to laugh.

The desire is gone, though, when Chase suddenly charges forward and pushes the door open, lifts his right arm, aims the gun, and shoots it.

* * *

><p>She says, " I can help you, but what<br>Do you say?"  
>Cause it's not free baby, you'll have<br>To pay

* * *

><p>Within minutes Edward has pulled off the boxer briefs and Blaine has turned his head, looking away from that horrible smile on his face.<p>

A hand wraps around him and starts moving. Blaine shudders, and Edward probably takes it for pleasure, but he is sickened at having this man touch him like this.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Edward gasps. "I can't believe... after all these years. Here we are. And you didn't even have to sing to me this time."

He bites down on his bottom lip, tries to hide, tries to will himself to just not exist anymore. He is horrified at his body reacting to the stimulation from the handjob, because he does not want this. Edward will think he wants it. But he doesn't.

"Just relax, _Delilah_," Edward says, spitting the name out as though he knows how it kills Blaine to hear it. He probably does. "You're mine now, and you might as well get used to this."

Edward leans forward and starts kissing Blaine's neck, his hand still pumping, and Blaine chokes on a sob that Edward mistakes for a moan.

And then, quite suddenly, there is the sound of a gunshot.

Edward leaps off of Blaine, looking livid. "What was that?" he says, his voice loud.

Blaine lies there shaking, the arousal quickly leaving him. He sincerely hopes that sound has nothing to do with Kurt.

They stand there in silence for far too long. The tension makes Blaine's heart hammer against his chest, leaves him too long to think about the situation he's in. Edward merely stands there in the pale light cast from the moon outside, staring at the door as if debating whether or not it would be worth it to go investigating.

Blaine shifts a bit, and he has a realization. If it was Kurt, it means Kurt has gotten out of his room. Which means he could be heading here now. If Edward goes looking for what caused the sound, Kurt will be caught and likely brought here. And Blaine doesn't want Kurt to suffer through this, but he also wishes desperately for someone to rescue him, to get him out of this. If he can just keep up the act of obedience for a little while longer, Kurt will come. Kurt will find him.

He has to believe that.

"Excuse me, sir, but-"

"WHAT?" Edward cuts across Blaine, spinning around to glare at him.

"I-I just... m-maybe it was... s-something might have fallen," Blaine says quietly, his voice shaking.

Edward looks down at him, frowning.

There is no other sound coming from the hallway.

"...I suppose," Edward says after a moment. Then he smiles back at Blaine. "You just want me to finish, don't you? Don't want to wait any more?" And he laughs darkly as he crawls back onto the bed, goes back to straddling Blaine. He lays on top of him, running his fingers down Blaine's chest. "My little whore... Fine, fine. I suppose it could have been Mr Schwindt, perhaps he was heading to the restroom and knocked over a lamp!" He chuckles a little, and then leans forward, kissing Blaine, attacking him with his lips, forcing entry with his tongue by grabbing Blaine again and making him gasp.

And they start again, and Blaine can feel every bit of his humanity ebb away.

* * *

><p>You just keep me contemplating, that<br>Your soul is slowly fading

* * *

><p>Kurt stands shocked, gaping at Chase, who is standing just inside the room. He pushes Chase aside and looks at the bed. Mr Schwindt is lying the bed, his eyes open in shock, a bullet wound in his chest. Right through his heart. Blood is gushing out of it, staining the crisp white sheets. Kurt is transfixed in horror at the sight of the dead body, but he snaps out of it soon enough, turning to look at Chase.<p>

He still has his arm raised, the gun still pointed, but he looks as though he can't comprehend what he's just done. He slowly lowers the weapon and turns to meet Kurt's shocked gaze.

_"What is wrong with you?"_ Kurt hisses, mindful that the door is still open. "Edward will have heard that! If he comes looking then we're _fucked!_"

Chase doesn't say anything, but turns back to Mr Scwindt's body. "...You don't know," he says finally, his voice thin, "how long I've fantasized about doing that."

Kurt can only stand there, his pulse racing, trying to listen for approaching footsteps in the hall. They stand there, frozen, for a nearly five minutes. And all the while, Kurt stares with wide eyes at Chase. He can certainly imagine how badly Chase has wanted to escape, to get revenge for what Mr Schwindt had done to him. But it's just like Chase had said earlier. Thinking about killing someone and actually doing it are two different things, because once you pull the trigger, it's done. You can't take it back. And Chase hadn't hesitated for more than a few seconds, and Kurt can't recall any part of that hesitation being reluctance. Only surprise.

Chase eventually looks back at Kurt, turning completely away from the dead body on the bed. "We have to go get Blaine, don't we?"

Kurt nods a little. "Yeah," he says. "we do. And then we can leave. And this can all be over."

With that, not taking any more time to think about what just happened, Kurt and Chase leave the room, heading for the room down the hall.

As they walk out, they can hear the sound of screaming. Kurt knows immediately that it's Blaine, and mixed in with the sound is Edward, sounding angry.

_"You. Do. Not. Try. To. Escape!"_

* * *

><p>God, don't you know that I live with a ton<br>Of regret?  
>Cause I used to move you in a way<br>That you've never known  
>But then I accused you in a way that<br>You've never known  
>But you've hurt me in a way that I've<br>Never known

* * *

><p>He's lost any sense of anything else. The feeling uncoiling in his gut makes him feel like a traitor to himself, to Kurt.<p>

Edward has foregone the handjob and has moved onto a blow job, his head bobbing up and down, glancing up devilishly at him.

Blaine cries out, and his face burns in shame, he hates himself for responding involuntarily to this. He just wishes he could somehow shut it off, or maybe somehow detach his mind from his body. Maybe shut down, try to convince himself that this is not happening right now.

He knows this feeling, of getting close. He wants to keep it from happening, because once this is done he knows what'll be next. But he can't control it, he can't help it. His hips jerk suddenly and Edward moans around him, and Blaine lets out a strangled whine. This isn't real, this is just a nightmare, this isn't happening to him right now.

And then the coiling heat springs loose and he's scrunching his face up, crying out, letting the tears fall as he comes.

Edward springs up and spits forcefully onto the floor. He coughs and sputters for a moment, then sits there, regarding Blaine as he lies on the bed, panting and crying. Without warning, Edward slaps Blaine across the face and Blaine yelps. "You should have said something," he says, his voice unnaturally calm. "Don't you have any goddamn manners?"

Edward huffs and sits on the edge of the bed. The dress on the floor catches his attention and he sits there, staring at it. Blaine wonders what he's doing, and watches with baited breath as Edward frowns at the garment.

"Did you rip the dress, Delilah?" he asks, his tone sending a chill down Blaine's spine. He can't respond, because obviously he's found the place where Blaine sewed the knife into the dress.

Without looking back at Blaine or waiting for a reply, Edward snatches the dress off the floor. He makes quick work of the sloppily sewn thread, tearing it out and ripping the lining. The fury in his eyes and posture quickly escalates as the knife falls to the floor with a dull thud.

The silence rings around Blaine. He waits on tenterhooks for an explosion as Edward slowly dips down, picks up the knife, and holds it up. The cotton bandages fall free and the metal blade gleams in the pale light.

"What is this?" Edward asks. He holds the knife up so Blaine can see it. His eyes are bugging out, his jaw set, and chest heaving with rage.

Blaine gapes at him, works his mouth as he tries desperately to find any logical explanation at all and still not get killed for having the knife.

"Answer me!" Edward screams, leaning forward. He leans over Blaine, pointing the knife at him. "Why do you have this? Why was it in your dress?"

Blaine shakes his head, unable to form words.

Edward snarls and he slashes Blaine with the knife across the chest. Blaine screams in pain, panicked at the feeling of blood splattering over his chest.

_"You little shit!"_ Edward shrieks. "You were going to try and kill me! This whole time... It was a lie! You were faking it!"

Blaine is sobbing again, from the pain, from the fear, and because he's been found out and now he knows there's no chance in hell he'll make it out of this alive. His only real hope is Kurt, and he can only hope he's coming. He can only hope that was the sound they heard earlier.

Edward once again straddles Blaine, but the lust is gone, replaced by his outrage. He carefully presses the tip of the knife against Blaine's skin, near his collar bone. "You thought you were being clever, didn't you, you fucking piece of shit? Thought you'd had it all figured out." He presses harder and Blaine chokes as the blade slowly breaks the skin. "I guess we're not quite done with you. I guess I still have a lot to teach you."

And he starts drawing the knife down, agonizingly slow, and Blaine starts screaming and thrashing, trying instinctively to get away from the burning pain. His thrashing only makes it worse, making the knife jump and press harder.

"You thought you'd tricked me. Huh..." Edward smiles again, and it looks sad and yet satisfied. "Well. I told you the rules, didn't I, Delilah? Do you remember rule number six?"

Blaine is to incoherent to even register what exactly Edward is saying to him. He's lost in pain, the feeling of blood running in rivulets down his skin, the panic of knowing he's about to be killed.

Edward stops cutting him, drawing the knife away, and gets off. Blaine is shocked, but it doesn't last long; he's flipped over and Edward gets on top of him again. And the pain flares up over his back as Edward digs into his skin with the knife.

_"You. Do. Not. Try. To. Escape!"_ He says it long and loud and drawn out as he carves the words into Blaine's back, and Blaine can only just barely hear him over his screams.

He finds his voice as he chokes and sobs into the pillow, feeling his own blood run into the sheets, spreading under him. "Please, please, oh g-god!"

_"Shut the fuck up!"_ Edward screams, and he grabs a fistful of Blaine's hair, jerking his head back, and he puts the blade against his exposed neck.

Blaine cries harder, feeling the metal against his skin, knowing he's facing death right now. With one swift movement Edward could kill him.

"I could slit your throat right now," Edward murmurs in his ear. "You did something very bad, Delilah. You're a horrid little bitch. I cannot just let you get away with this, you know. I have no room here for misbehaving little shits like you. You're _worthless_ to me," he says, pulling harder on Blaine's hair, "you are _nothing_ anymore. Your old life is over and this all you have left, and you were prepared to throw that away. Well, so be it."

The blade starts pressing in, so slow, and Blaine squeezes his eyes shut as the knife pricks at his skin. He's shaking so bad, he's seen this in movies, he doesn't know how long it'll take him to black out from loss of blood, how long he'll lay here in agony, feeling blood gushing out of him, how long until it's all over.

And then the door bangs open, and Blaine hears the most beautiful voice in the world. "Get off of him!"

Edward lets go of Blaine, and Blaine just lets his head drop onto the pillow, completely spent and so lightheaded from the blood loss. He has only just enough wherewithal to turn his head slightly and find Kurt stand there, with that other boy next to him, holding a gun, pointing it at Edward.

Kurt's eyes are blazing, wide and reflecting the moonlight. He is staring Edward down, somehow able to still look threatening even while wearing a dress.

"How did you get up here?" Edward says, but his voice is shaking. Blaine can hear him moving, probably trying to find something to cover himself.

"Get away from him," Kurt says, and he starts walking forward slowly. The other boy... What was his name again? He follows, looking perfectly calm while pointing the gun. "We're done being your property, Edward, or whatever your real name is. I suggest you have a seat," and Kurt points to an armchair near the fireplace.

Blaine can't see it from here, but he assumes Edward has done as Kurt said and is sitting. The other boy keeps the gun pointed at him as Kurt hurries over to Blaine, looking panicked. He kneels by the bed as his eyes take in the damage.

"Oh, Blaine...!" he says, and he starts looking around before he reaches toward the end of the bed, grabbing the duvet, and carefully covers Blaine up to his waist, mindful of the bleeding and jagged cuts. He reaches out and brushes the tears off his face, not breaking eye contact, looking heart broken. "It's all right, Blaine, we'll get you out of this, just hold on."

Blaine doesn't say anything, just stares at Kurt, unable to believe he's really here. He really came. He slowly closes his eyes, feeling incredibly dizzy. He can relax, because Kurt's here. He feels safe, even though the sadistic bastard is still in the room. Kurt's fingers are gently trailing over him, caressing the skin not marred by the knife.

"Just relax, honey," Kurt whispers, his voice shaking. "I know it hurts, but I'm gonna get you out of here and we'll get you taken care of. I'm right here. I won't leave you. You'll be okay."

"I know," Blaine replies softly, his voice hoarse. He knows he'll be fine. Because Kurt came, Kurt saved him.

The gentle touches help him catch his breath, help him forget for the moment about what just happened to him. Kurt leans close, kissing him ever so softly on the cheek. "I'm going to get the keys for the handcuffs. I'm not leaving you. I'll be right back, okay?" He whispers it in Blaine's ear as he strokes his hair, his eyes full of sympathy.

Blaine smiles weakly at him. "Okay," he says. It's about all he has the energy to say.

* * *

><p>Break me shake me hate me<br>Take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone

* * *

><p>Kurt stands over Edward, who is sitting in the chair, quivering with fear. "Sorry to bother you," Kurt says, "but would you happen to know where I can find the keys to those handcuffs? You see, some sadistic asshole carved up my boyfriend, and handcuffed him to the bed, and I need to get him out of here."<p>

Edward looks away from the gun in his face to sneer at him. "Like I'd tell you, faggot."

"Oh, wow, that's original!" Kurt says sarcastically. He looks over at Chase, who is calmly regarding Edward with distaste. "Did you hear that, Chase? He called me a faggot! Do you think he thought that up all by himself?"

Chase laughs a little, and Kurt realizes it's the first time he's heard him laugh. But he dismisses it for the time being, because his boyfriend still needs him. He leans down so he's on Edward's eye level. "You listen here," Kurt says in his best bitch voice. "You have tortured us for days, treated us like shit. And you honestly thought that we weren't going to try and get away? You thought you could get away with this?"

Edward just stares back, his face blank.

"You were wrong," Kurt smiles a little, his tone falsely sweet. "I'm gonna tell you a little secret. You do not mess with Kurt Hummel. And you surely do not mess with Kurt Hummel's boyfriend. That shit will get you a swift high-kick to the face where I come from. But seeing as how you've gone above and beyond the expectations of being a creeper and a sick son of a bitch, I figure I'll just let the cops have you."

Edward's eyes widen a little. "Now, hold on just a second, Dinah-"

He doesn't finish the statement, because Kurt, unable to take it anymore, lashes out and punches Edward right on the left temple.

Edward cries out and curls up on the chair, and Kurt shakes his hand out. He had no idea punching someone could hurt so bad. He looks over at Chase, who is now trying giving Edward a pitying little smile.

"Let's try that again," Kurt says tightly, rubbing his hand, trying to ease the pain. "Where are the keys to the handcuffs? And, if you really want to be a douche about this, I will remind you that Chase here has a gun, and I can find the keys myself. You'll just be saving me a bit of time."

Edward is silent for a moment, fuming as he glares up at the gun. "...They're in the drawer, in the bedside table." He says it through clenched teeth, sounding defeated.

"Thank you," Kurt says, and he goes back to the bed, and locates the keys within a few seconds. He also happens to find Edward's own cell phone, which makes him feel incredibly lucky. He walks over to Chase, hands him the phone. "Here. Call 911, tell them what's going on. Do you know the address for this place?"

"No," Chase says. He takes the phone eagerly, dials, and holds it up to his ear, all while keeping the gun on Edward. "But I know how we got here."

Kurt leaves Chase to handle the call and Edward, knowing the bastard isn't going anywhere with a gun in his face. Instead, he leans over Blaine, unlocks the handcuffs and tosses them aside without caring where they fall. He gently guides Blaine's arms down to the bed, noticing his face tightening from the pain. His shoulder muscles are probably all stiff from being in that position so long, and moving is hurting him, and Kurt wishes he could just take the pain away. Instead, all he can do is crouch by the bed again and resume petting Blaine's hair. "Blaine," he says softly, "can you still hear me?"

"Mhmm," Blaine breathes, keeping his eyes closed.

Kurt smiles in spite of the situation. He can't help himself; he leans forward again and places another soft kiss on Blaine's cheek. He leans back and his heart flutters when Blaine smiles just a bit. "I'm going to get some help. You're gonna be fine."

Blaine snuffles and opens his eyes, which are quickly filling with tears. "Kurt..." he says, his voice weak.

"Shh..." Kurt wishes Blaine wouldn't cry. He wishes he could just hug him, but that would only hurt him more. "It's okay, Blaine. Don't try to talk. Just rest. You're gonna be fine."

Blaine shifts slightly, and grimaces from the pain. He reaches out for Kurt's hand, and Kurt gladly takes it. "Kurt... love you.. so much."

"I know, honey. I love you, too," Kurt says as he smiles. He tries to keep his voice steady, but the emotion bleeds through it anyway. "Oh, honey, please don't cry..." He leans closer, carefully resting his head against Blaine's bare shoulder as Blaine cries.

"I was s-so scared," Blaine whispers. "I thought... I thought he was... g-gonna kill me..."

"Shh, shh... It's over now, it's all over," Kurt says. "Chase- That's Gabriel's real name, he's calling the police. And we'll get you to a hospital. And I won't leave you, not for one second. No matter what. You were so brave for doing this, and I'm so proud of you, and I'm so, so sorry it had to happen to you." He finds himself getting choked up as he says it. "It's all over. We can go home."

* * *

><p>So won't you break me shake me<br>Hate me take me over  
>When the madness stops then you<br>Will be alone

* * *

><p>Woo! That was fun.<p>

I suspect that the next chapter will wrap this up. Tearful reunions with the family, etc. This means Andersons as well as Hudmels. I know most people think Blaine has a mean dad but if you're hoping for that, you're gonna be disappointed. And really, I think the boys have suffered enough for this fic, don't you? ;D

Thanks so much for reading. Hopefully it won't take me so long to get the next chapter up. :P It's now four in the morning, and I have to be at work at eleven... I probably won't even get to sleep until like six. Ah the joys of adult responsibilities...


	6. If I Ever Leave This World Alive

LOLITA

Well, here it is, the last chapter of Lolita. It is so weird to think that I was so sad when I started this fic, and now I'm back to being happy. :D

Thanks for all the stuff you do, people reading this. Thanks just for reading this. It blows my mind, people actually paying attention to something I've written.

The song for this chapter is a great deal more cheerful than the others. It's one of my all-time favorite songs. It's 'If I Ever Leave This World Alive' (live version, of course. You haven't lived until you've heard this song live. It's like a religious experience) by the greatest motherfucking band on earth, Flogging Molly. No, I don't wanna hear it. Flogging Molly is epic. :D

I love you guys. You're all so amazing and wonderful and I am giving you beautiful, magnificent people a super huge cyber hug right now.

* * *

><p>If I ever leave this world alive<p>

I'll thank you for the things you did in my life

* * *

><p>The ride to the hospital is hectic and stressful. It had taken a lot of shouting for Kurt, now wearing a pair of borrowed pants and a t-shirt, to be allowed to sit at Blaine's side, just like he'd promised.<p>

Blaine's eyes are closed. He has one of those oxygen masks over his face and he's wrapped up in a blanket. The paramedics have wrapped the knife wounds temporarily, and they had mentioned the obvious, that Blaine would need stitches. Lots of stitches. And a blood transfusion. Kurt's injuries are old and half-healed, but they had looked him over anyway, and he had been a bitch about it the whole time. His boyfriend was bleeding and hurt and needed to go the hospital. Blaine has been his only priority since all this started, and he's not going to stop being his only priority until he's seen a doctor.

The police will question them at the hospital, after they've all been looked at. They're the ones taking Chase, he didn't need any immediate medical attention. The police had been looking for Chase for a long time, apparently. They've been looking for Kurt and Blaine, too. One of them mentioned that there had been a lot of news coverage and silly things, like candlelight vigils and prayers and stuff like that.

Kurt has a solid grip on Blaine's hand, and he refuses to let go. The paramedics are grumbling about it while they start Blaine's IV but Kurt tunes them out. He leans over Blaine, who is only barely conscious at this point. "I love you," he whispers.

Something catches his eye; he looks up a bit and notices the female paramedic smiling sweetly at them. "He's your boyfriend?" she asks.

"Yeah," Kurt says. "He's my boyfriend." He looks back down at Blaine while the woman sighs happily.

Blaine's eyes are now open, if barely. He's staring up at Kurt, his slight smile obscured a bit by the oxygen mask.

They're sitting in an ambulance, being whisked away from the nightmare of the past few days. Kurt is surrounded on all sides by medical equipment, and paramedics speaking their medical-language that, to him, may as well be Russian. Edward is on his way to prison. Chase will be reunited with his family. Kurt and Blaine will be reunited with theirs. And all Kurt can do, all he can think about, is how happy he is just to be holding Blaine's hand right now, how lucky he is to be looking into his eyes, how amazing it is to see him smile up at him. Even if he is in pain.

Kurt leans over him, mindful of how the vehicle is shifting around him. He kisses Blaine on the forehead, letting his lips linger, loving the feeling of Blaine's soft curls tickling his face. "I love you," he says again.

Blaine's hand tightens around his.

* * *

><p>If I ever leave this world alive<p>

I'll come back down and sit beside your feet tonight

* * *

><p>When he wakes up, he's in a stiff and starched bed, and when he opens his eyes he is assaulted by fluorescent lights. He shuts his eyes on impulse, and his mind catches up, and his heart is hammering, because maybe it was just a dream, maybe it didn't really happen-<p>

"Blaine!"

Someone is petting his hair, someone is holding his hand. The grip tightens, he can't tell if it's him or this other person. There is a strange, shrill noise in the background, and he can't seem to breathe properly.

"Honey, please calm down. You're okay, I promise. You're okay."

The voice is familiar, the touch is familiar. He opens his eyes, slowly, and when his vision clears a bit he can see someone looming over him.

"Just breathe," the figure says, their voice thick with tears. "Everything's okay now. We're safe now."

The figure is backlit by the fluorescent lights so he can't see them very well. But something deep in his heart tells him it's Kurt.

His pulse slows to normal, he catches his breath. The grip on his hand loosens a little. The hand petting his hair doesn't stop.

Kurt said everything is okay. He said they were safe now. And Blaine will always believe Kurt. So as he fades back into unconsciousness, it's without fear. He doesn't have to worry. Kurt is here and everything's going to be fine.

* * *

><p>Where ever I am, you'll always be<p>

More than just a memory

If I ever leave this world alive

* * *

><p>Kurt is staring out the dark window at the night sky, counting stars. He feels incredibly heavy, like his extremities weigh a ton apiece. He wants to lay down, go to sleep, but he has to stay awake for Blaine.<p>

Blaine came to not long ago, and he immediately panicked. And it scared Kurt so much, all of this scares him. But especially the sounds of the heart monitor screaming, Blaine's labored breathing, and the nurse rushing in just as Blaine slipped under again.

A panic attack, they said. He woke up and must've thought he was back there.

The door opens behind Kurt but he couldn't be bothered to turn around just to assure another bored night-shift nurse that he's fine. Instead he looks down at Blaine, hoping he's having nice dreams. The last thing Blaine needs is a bad dream.

"Kurt."

The choked voice is the only sound on the planet that could tear Kurt's attention away from Blaine. He turns, and standing there is Burt Hummel, looking somehow older than when Kurt last saw him.

"Dad," he chokes. He looks back at Blaine, just quick enough to make sure he doesn't stir when Kurt lets go of his hand. And then he crosses the room in a few quick strides and all but jumps into his father's arms. "Oh, God, Dad," he whines into Burt's shoulder. Burt just tightens his grip as Kurt starts to cry.

He missed this, he was longing for this. He'll never take this feeling for granted, the feeling of being safe and warm and protected by his father's strong arms. He's breaking down, and it's all catching up to him. Now that they're safe, now that the danger is gone, the realization that he and Blaine could've died in that awful place floods his mind. Blaine was nearly raped, and he was mutilated, and Kurt had to witness a man get shot and killed, and he they had to answer to girl's names while wearing dresses, and Edward said he was gonna fuck him after he fucked Blaine, and Kurt just wishes he could've somehow figured out how to get out of there without Blaine getting hurt, and -

"Kurt, Kurt," his father says, cutting over him. When had he started saying all that out loud? "Calm down. It's all right."

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and just buries his face in the soft flannel of his father's shirt. "I was so scared," Kurt sobs. "He held a gun to my head." The arms tighten, and Burt shakes in fury for a moment. Kurt looks up miserably at him. "...Dad," he whispers, "don't get upset. Your heart."

"To Hell with my heart," Burt growls. "They better put that bastard away for the next sixty years, or else I'll find him and I'll rip him apart." It's no empty threat. Kurt can hear the conviction in Burt's voice, see it in his eyes, and it's both a bit unsettling and very reassuring. Kurt pulls away, and Burt looks down at him. There are unshed tears in his eyes, and for some reason this takes Kurt by surprise. "I'm so glad you're safe, Kurt. I was so terrified when you came up missing."

"I'm sorry," Kurt breathes, a few tears of his own slipping down his face. Burt brushes them away without thinking about it.

"Don't be sorry," he says. "You're okay, now. That's what's important."

"Blaine's in bad shape, though," Kurt says. He looks back at the bed, where Blaine is still asleep.

"He'll be just fine. They're gonna take good care of him. Kurt," Kurt only turns back around when Burt says his name, and then just falls back into his father's arms. "Everything's fine. It could've been... It could've been so much worse. But you're both alive. Oh, thank God you're alive...!"

They just sink to the floor, and the dam breaks, and Kurt simply cannot hold back anymore when his own father is crying like this.

His world is currently upside down, and Blaine still isn't quite out of the woods yet, and the police still want to talk to them. Instinctively, Kurt keeps listening for approaching footsteps, expecting Edward to come busting in, his eyes full of rage, just like when he'd been bent over Blaine's back, carving into it with a knife. He knows it's not as easy as getting their wounds disinfected and stitched up, it's not as easy as reporting it to the police. Even though the ordeal itself is over, the ordeal of healing is what happens next.

But as long as he has his dad and Blaine, he has hope.

* * *

><p>If I ever leave this world alive<p>

I'll take on all the sadness that I left behind

* * *

><p>It's nearly seven in the morning when Blaine wakes up again. He glares at the analog clock on the wall, not recognizing it. It's hideous, no way he'd put something like that in his room. He shifts a bit and looks around. It only takes a few minutes for the scenery to make sense, the logic taking longer than usual to come together due to how fuzzy his head is right now.<p>

He's in the hospital.

He sits up a bit. He itches all over, like he fell asleep in the grass again... He keeps looking around sluggishly, slouched even though it pulls at the skin on his back. He smacks his mouth once, feeling thirsty, like he was chewing on cotton balls before he went to sleep last night. Unfortunately, he can't find anything within arm's reach that he can drink. He is just so _thirsty_.

The door opens and lots of voices come sweeping in. Blaine lazily turns his head to take in the source of the noise. One is the unmistakable voice of his father, Harold Anderson. As if he could forget that deep, authoritative voice.

"Unbelievable! You can rest assured, this madman will not make bail. This is my son, officer, I don't care what kind of money he inherited. No! I've heard enough. If that man walks free, I won't hesitate to... How did Mr. Hummel put it, Miranda?"

"As I recall, he said he would 'curbstomp him like the bitch he is'."

"Yes, exactly! I'll find out what a curbstomp is and that's what I'll do to him! Good DAY sir."

Blaine is biting his lip, trying not to laugh. His parents are standing just inside the room, his father hanging up his phone with as much venom as he can muster when it only requires a touch on the screen. And then they both look up in unison.

"Blaine!" his mother says, "Oh, you're awake!" She abandons all pretense of being 'lady-like' and just runs over to him and hugs him.

The feeling of his mother's hug cuts through the (probably drug-induced) stupor as easily as a hot knife through butter. Her touch is feather-light, as it always is, but her hands steer clear of his back awkwardly. He's rather glad of this, because the embrace is making the hospital-issued shirt pull over his back and it stings a bit.

His father sits in a chair on the other side of the bed just as his mother pulls away. "Son," he says, "how are you feeling?"

Blaine carefully lays back and regards his father with a listless smile. "Pretty good," he says with a bit of a slur.

"Oh, Harry," Miranda says in a stage whisper. "I think he may still be a little bit... you know."

"A little bit what?" Blaine asks indignantly.

"Blaine," Harold says, trying not to laugh. "Be still. Are you in any pain? Do you need anything?"

Blaine's smile only grows as a warm feeling envelopes him. All this attention is nice. "I'm really thirsty," he says. "Can I please have some water?"

"Yes, of course you can," Miranda says sweetly. She pats his knee as she gets on her feet. "I'll go fetch you a glass of water, and your father will sit with you. How does that sound?"

Blaine just smiles stupidly at her as she leaves, then turns back to his dad. "I feel really weird," he says after a moment.

"They have you on some pain killers," his dad says in a business-like tone. "I wanted to talk to you, Blaine, about what happened."

The smile slides off Blaine's face. He doesn't want to think about it, but he can't just tell his dad no. Instead, he just nods after a moment's hesitation.

Harold reaches over and puts his hand over Blaine's. "We don't have to talk about it right now, if you would rather wait."

"No, I... I just..." Blaine stops and clears his throat. He hopes his mother comes back with the water soon. "What did you want to know?"

"Did that man... Did he... sleep with you? Did he force you to do anything... Like that?"

Blaine takes a deep, shuddering breath. Did that happen? Was that real, or was that just a part of his strange, drug-induced nightmares? He can remember Edward pulling the dress off. He can remember the handcuffs locking around his wrists. He definitely remembers the pain, and the blood. Lots of blood. In between flashing memories of screaming and thinking he was going to be killed, after the hopelessness he felt when the handcuffs went on and before the agony of the knife... There was something.

"He handcuffed me to the bed," Blaine says softly, not looking at his father, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. They were getting so close to how things used to be, before Blaine came out. They were so close to Harold being as okay with Blaine's sexuality as he was ever likely to be, and now he's going to tell him this and Blaine is sure it's going to undo all that progress. "He, um... He was touching me. I didn't want him to. We were both... We were both naked... and... He was... He was trying to..."

His father's hand on his twitches. He remembers how terrified he'd been, how humiliating it was. "He was giving me a blowjob," he blurts out, and his father's hand tightens.

"Oh, God," Harold moans. Blaine can't look at him right now. He only stares vacantly up at the analog clock on the wall, watching the red second hand move slowly around the face of the clock. Those kinds of second hands always bothered him. Second hands ought to tick, not move in a smooth circle. Why would people even make a clock like that?

"I had a knife hidden... So we could escape, but he found it. He cut me with it. A lot. It hurt really bad. There was a lot of blood."

"I'm so sorry," his father says, and the way his voice shakes forces Blaine to turn and look at him. Harold is bent over, hiding his face behind the hand not holding Blaine's. His shoulders are shaking. Blaine gasps softly.

"Dad..." he says. "It's okay, Dad. He didn't do anything else."

Suddenly his father leaps up and hugs him. Blaine can't help but cry out a bit as his dad's arms wrap around him, but the feeling of a hug from his dad overrides the dull pain. The last time his father had hugged him like this... Was also in a hospital, after a night at a dance gone very bad.

"I love you, Blaine," his father says.

Blaine sighs into his dad's shoulder and returns the hug. "I love you, too, Dad."

* * *

><p>If I ever leave this world alive<p>

The madness that you feel will soon subside

* * *

><p>A week later finds Kurt and Blaine attending twice-weekly therapy and trying to return to their normal lives. Kurt's family hovers over him while trying to maintain normalcy for Kurt's sake. Blaine's family constantly asks him if he's doing okay, if he wants to talk. Kurt feels responsible for what Edward did to Blaine. Blaine feels nervous when someone other than Kurt touches him. They have nightmares. They have bad days.<p>

It's a sunny summer day, a heat wave in full effect, and Kurt and Blaine are at the park, sitting on the swings.

"Dr. Leslie said that I blame myself because I expect more of myself when it comes to you. She says I wanted to save you from that." Kurt says as he tilts back in his swing.

Blaine is silent for a moment. "Dr. Savannah told me that I'll eventually get used to people again. At some point I won't associate stressful situations with what happened."

"That's all we ever hear," Kurt says with an aggravated sigh as he swings past Blaine, who is stationary. "It'll get better. Eventually. What a load of shit."

"Well, it will," Blaine murmurs.

Kurt doesn't hear him, though. "Finn asked me if the sounds his video games make, you know, all the gunfire, would 'set me off'."

Blaine looks over at Kurt as Kurt's feet drag against the packed dirt, bringing him to a stop. "My mother asks stuff like that all the time," Blaine says with a smile and a well-meaning eye roll. "And my dad keeps trying to have 'bonding time'. He actually sat down and watched _An American in Paris_ with me the other night."

"Oh, wow," Kurt says with a little laugh. "How did that go?"

"He sat through the whole thing. He didn't quite get the big dance number, though."

"Well, it's art!" Kurt says exuberantly. "You're not supposed to get it."

They laugh, and they reach for the other's hand simultaneously. They forgo the depressing conversation of how their loved ones' lives have had to change to accommodate their fragile emotional state. They put the still-fresh psychological scars at the back of their mind and start swinging in tandem, not letting go of the other's hand.

* * *

><p>So in a word, don't shed a tear<p>

I'll be here when it all gets weird

If I ever leave this world alive

* * *

><p>A month later, they get news that Edward is in jail, and isn't getting out any time soon.<p>

Kurt is sitting at the table having breakfast when Burt comes and sits across from him, wearing that 'we need to talk' look that all fathers have. "Kurt," he says, "I've got news."

Kurt jerks his head up, feigning surprise. "Oh my God. Did they finally outlaw flannel? I'm so sorry, Dad. It'll be a process but we can heal together." He smiles.

Burt shakes his head and sighs, long suffering, at Kurt's sarcasm. "No, this actually serious."

"Oh, is it? Sorry. I should know better than to joke about your flannel addiction."

"They sentenced the guy that kidnapped you." This shuts Kurt up, and Burt feels really bad for just throwing it out there like that. But he never liked beating around the bush about stuff like this. "He got a life sentence in a high-security prison."

"Oh," Kurt says. His eyes are impossibly wide.

They sit there while Kurt absorbs the news, and Kurt wonders how Blaine is handling this. And it occurs to him that Blaine's parents might not have told him yet because they have an intense urge to shelter him. Kurt jumps up. "I have to call Blaine," he blurts out. Burt merely nods, not looking up as he picks up the morning paper and opens it.

He runs up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door as he goes. He grabs his phone from his desk and sits on his bed, and he dials Blaine, and he waits.

After three rings, Blaine picks up. "Mmmhello...?"

Kurt can't help smiling at Blaine's sleepy voice. He can just picture him, all huddled under his blanket and squinting at the sunlight. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Blaine says, obviously lying. "What's up?"

"I did too wake you up, but I have something to tell you. It's kind of important. Are you ready?"

There is shuffling from the other end, probably Blaine sitting up in bed. Kurt imagines him running his hand through his hair and stifling a yawn. "...Yeah, yeah, I'm ready."

"It's about... Edward. He got sentenced."

"...Oh."

Kurt licks his lips. "He got life in a high-security prison."

"...That's good."

"I don't know how to feel about this."

Blaine pauses, and when he speaks again, it's soft and breathy. "...Me neither."

"Should we be happy? I think our therapists would want us to be happy."

"I feel..." Blaine cuts himself off and hums thoughtfully. "I feel like he got what was coming to him... But... I just wish there was something else coming to him."

"Something worse," Kurt says darkly.

"Right," Blaine says. He sighs, sounding aggravated. "I mean, he'll probably get torn apart in a high-security prison. I just want... retribution. For what he did to us."

Kurt looks out his window once Blaine falls silent. It's such a lovely day, and he just wants to be happy again, to be able to enjoy times likes these. The sun is shining right now, and there's just a hint of a breeze. But before he knows it it'll be winter, and it'll be bitter cold and cloudy every day. He and Blaine should enjoy this moment while it lasts.

"Blaine... Let's go to the park."

"...Okay."

* * *

><p>So when in doubt, just call my name<p>

Just before you go insane

* * *

><p>Two months after the ordeal, and they're both sitting in a nice, sit-down style chain restaurant, having breakfast. The charm of barely-known cafes has passed for both of them.<p>

Blaine is turning his ceramic coffee mug around in his hands, feeling nervous. "When did he say he was coming?"

Kurt looks up from the newspaper he's reading to check the time on his phone. "Oh, um... He should be here any minute. Are you okay?"

Blaine shrugs, but Kurt doesn't go back to his paper. He's not going to just let it slide, because they've been through the 'talk about your feelings' part of therapy already. Blaine sighs in frustration. "Should I be nervous about this?"

"I don't know," Kurt says thoughtfully, putting the newspaper down. "I mean, we know Chase. Sort of. It's not like you don't know him at all."

"Yes, but, the last time I saw him was... that night."

"That night. You mean the night Edward carved you like a turkey," Kurt says. Blaine regrets telling Kurt what his therapist said about facing what happened head on, about not referring to it as 'that night' or 'that guy' or 'you-know-what', or anything else vague like that. He takes a sip of his coffee, and is considering flagging down the waitress to ask for more when Kurt lets out one of his adorable little squeaks.

"There he is! Look at him, Blaine, oh, he looks so much better than when we last saw him!" Kurt says happily, looking over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine turns in his chair and finds Chase, walking in and talking to the waitress about finding the two boys waiting for him. And Kurt is right, Chase looks much better than he did before. He's filled out a bit, put on some much-needed weight, and he's gotten a haircut. The waitress is walking him over, and Chase keeps his eyes on the floor, but he doesn't look defeated or beaten down. He only looks wary, avoiding other people like he's in a room full of lepers. And once the waitress has brought him over, he looks up, and Blaine can see the spark of life in his eyes, instead of that deadened look.

"Hello, Chase!" Kurt says. "Sit down, sit down! It's so nice to see you again!"

Chase sits down and orders a coffee. Blaine asks for another for himself. Kurt asks her to bring some cinnamon rolls; the restaurant is famous for them. The waitress leaves, all bright smiles and false enthusiasm. Chase turns to Blaine and says, his voice still quiet, "How are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks," Blaine says with a quick smile. "I healed up all right. I've got, you know... Scars, though. But the worst ones are on my back so I don't have to look at them... Kurt's seen them, though."

"They aren't that bad," Kurt says. "We've been putting vitamin E oil on it, it helps keep cuts and stuff from scarring and from getting infected. In fact, Blaine went to get his stitches out and the doctor was just _shocked_ at how fast he'd healed up."

"That's wonderful," Chase says happily. "I'm so glad."

"How are you, Chase?" Kurt asks. "You seem a lot better."

"I am," he says, smiling at the table. "...I have a little sister now."

Blaine gasps and Kurt squeals again, clapping his hands like he does when he's very happy. Blaine leans over and hesitantly pats Chase on the shoulder, and he's very impressed when Chase doesn't flinch away. "Congratulations! That's so awesome."

"Yeah," Chase says, "She's a lot younger than me but I know I'm going to be there for her, no matter what. And my parents were actually worried, they thought they had to reassure me that she wasn't replacing me or whatever..."

The conversation goes on from there, and Blaine is happy to give his account of how his relationship with his older brother was not damaged by a nearly ten-year age gap. And while the conversation may be a bit awkward at times, because they are obviously tip-toeing around the subject of what happened, Blaine feels like this meet-up was very important. He feels like seeing Chase make progress has brought him new hope. And he looks over at Kurt as the waitress brings a plate of cinnamon rolls, and the two share a look, only for a brief moment.

_We're all gonna be fine._

* * *

><p>If I ever leave this world<p>

I may never leave this world

But if I ever leave this world alive

* * *

><p>It's six months to the day of their kidnapping, and the dreary autumn weather and blustery winds bring a sense of melancholy about it.<p>

They've finished with therapy. They keep in touch with Chase, but don't see him very often. He lives with his parents in Columbus so they mostly just keep in touch via facebook, where he happily posts photos of his adorable baby sister. The scars have faded as much as they're ever going to, both the physical ones and the emotional ones.

Blaine had assured Kurt he was ready for this, to get their relationship back to where it was. He's lying on his stomach on Kurt's bed, his shirt gone, and Kurt is sitting next to him, squirting a bit of massage oil onto his open palm. He had suggested this, that they start slow, work their way back up. If they rush it, they could ruin everything.

Kurt slowly runs his oil-slicked hands over Blaine's back, trying to ignore the ridges and lines made by the knife so long ago. He works Blaine's shoulders, loving the sound of his low moan. "Does this feel nice?" Kurt asks softly.

"Mmhmm..." Blaine hums. He sounds content and sleepy, and that sound makes Kurt's heart flutter. He leans down and carefully kisses the back of Blaine's neck, giving him time to say no, giving him space to shift away. But he doesn't. Instead, he turns over so he's on his side and the two of them start kissing, slow and sweet at first. But it picks up speed and gets hotter and more urgent as they keep going.

Kurt straddles Blaine, and Blaine does not try to escape, he does not freak out and then start apologizing, or worse, start crying. Blaine only looks up at him with adoring eyes and says, his voice heavy and his pupils blown wide, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Kurt says with a sultry smile.

And that night, exactly six months from their kidnapping, on a chilly October night, they have their second first time.

* * *

><p>She says, I'm okay<p>

I'm all right

Though you have gone from my life

You said that it would

Now everything should

Be all right

* * *

><p>A year after their kidnapping, and it may as well not have happened. They realize how lucky they were, how a lot of people go missing and never find their way home.<p>

Sometimes one of them will be awake at some odd hour of the night, rethinking it, picturing all the things that could've gone wrong. Kurt has called Blaine after midnight a few times, ranting hysterically about how, if he and Chase had been a minute later, he would've walked in to Blaine getting his throat cut open.

Blaine has called Kurt, too, after vivid nightmares about Edward changing his mind, saying he wanted Kurt instead. Or he would just remember the wounds, still fresh, on Kurt's back when he saw him for the first time since they'd been kidnapped. Or he would delve into what-ifs and scare himself stupid, thinking about Edward doing horrible things to Kurt, thinking about their plan not working at all and that they could still be there in his clutches. And Blaine has told Kurt that he is fairly sure that, if they hadn't escaped and were still there today, a year later, he's sure he would've actually given up by now.

They still listen for footsteps in the hallway when their respective bedrooms get dark. They still keep the blinds open so some light comes through, because neither can handle being plunged back into that complete darkness. They still haven't gone back to that cafe, and when they went back to the mall, they brought nearly half of the Glee club with them.

It's been a year, and for the most part things have gotten back to normal. For the most part, they've forgotten about Edward. Kurt has forgotten the meaning behind the barely-legible scars spelling angry words on Blaine's back. Blaine has forgotten how skeptic Kurt had been, how he had refused to believe that they would ever get to this point.

Their whole life is right in front of them. They're going to go to college and make their dreams come true. They're going to make something of themselves. They're going to move on, like they've been doing. Slowly but surely.

And in the near future when boxes are packed up and put into a moving van, and they're heading out for NYU, they are still holding hands. Because Kurt promised he would stay by Blaine's side, and Blaine has since promised to do the same.

They'll look after each other in the big bad city. Blaine has assured Burt and Carole and Finn that Kurt will be fine. Kurt has assured Mr and Mrs Anderson, as well as Blaine's older brother Cooper, that Blaine will be fine.

It's just before sunrise when they hug family members goodbye at the airport. The sun is just peeking over the horizon as they board the plane, hand-in-hand.

And the sunlight filtering through the windows into the cabin is golden and bright as they sit next to each other, holding onto the other just to contain their excitement and calm their nerves. The light is warm and refreshing and beautiful.

And when the plane takes off for New York with those two on board, the families left behind stand and sniffle and whisper 'good luck's and 'we love you's. And they all feel it, they all know it. One chapter has ended, and the next is beginning.

* * *

><p>She says, I'm okay<p>

I'm all right

Though you have gone from my life

You said that it would

Now everything should

Be all right

It should be all right

It's gonna be all right

* * *

><p>OMG DONE<p>

Sorry if the end got really sappy. I thought it was fitting. *shrug*

So what's next for shotofwhiskey... Hmmm... I'm gonna try to work on 7days. I have a lot of other fanfic ideas though, and they're all much more interesting than 7days. I know some people are waiting for that to be updated but I really don't want to lie to you and say 'soon! yaay' because I don't know when I'll update it.

Anyway... if anyone cares I recently got a tumblr. artistwriterloverfighter dot tumblr dot com. I don't post much, mainly reblog shit, but when I do post it's music or artwork or whatever. Anyway, yeah, if you follow me I'll follow you :D I love meeting new people.

I just need to say again how much you all have blown me away. I never, ever thought anyone would actually give anything I've written a chance, I never thought anyone would read this and think 'oh, I need to add this to my favs/alerts'. And as of right now I have 35 reviews for this story, all of them wonderful. I just can't even fathom that anyone would give my silly little fanfic the time of day. I know it seems silly to be so moved by people reading a fanfic of mine, but I have to be honest here and tell you that no one has ever really paid this much attention to any of my artistic endeavors. And I fucking love each and every one of you who have read this, because you're all awesome people.

I LOVE YOU GUYS. KISSES~


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